Swans
by insufficientemotionalfunds
Summary: Part I of II. The chronicles of Mello and Matt, introduction till the end, beginning in the Wammy's library. MelloxMattxMello. Chapters are usually 70/30 angst and comedy, the percentages vary depending on my mood. Officially abandoned. Sorry.
1. I

_**Author's Note: **This fic—not chapter, the whole fic--is part one of two. The full thing will basically be the entire chronicle of Matt and Mello from introduction till death, called, overall **The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot, **after the song by Brand New (the accompanying music video is on youtube.) There will be a lot of drama, a lot of humor and randomness, and a **LOT **of angst. This **is **Mello after all, Captain Dark and Twisty himself. Right. Anyway. Yup, this installment is called, tentatively, **Brighter Than Sunshine, **after the Aqualung song. I like naming things after music; leave me be. Oh! And I'm currently working on a soundtrack for this half... Part II already has a full one. lol._

_**Disclaimer: **Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.:Brighter Than Sunshine:.**

**.I.**

The young foreigner, Mihael Keehl was, at first, quiet, reserved… he kept to himself his first few days at Wammy's, curled into a corner of the expansive library, reading intently and devouring bar after bar of chocolate as though his life depended on it.

On the third day of this self-inflicted seclusion, Roger began to worry. The nine-year-old blond had barely spoken a full sentence since his arrival. The doctors had called it post traumatic stress, claiming it was the lingering after affect of his parents' disturbing deaths, and that he should begin recovery soon--if he did at all. The caretakers did everything they could to coax the boy out of his solitude… soliciting toys, outings, TV time… all the things that had worked on the other children. It seemed fruitless, he didn't budge.

A week after the Slavic boy's appearance at the orphanage, Roger was reading the morning paper in his office over a cooling cup of tea, when a distraught five-year-old Linda flew into the room, pigtails streaming. He glanced up, startled, as she flung herself at his knee, clutching the fabric of his slacks desperately.

"What is it, dear?" he asked consolingly, patting her head gently.

"Fight in the library, Mr. Roger," she gasped, staring up at him with large brown eyes. He sighed, getting slowly to his feet and taking her hand as he led the way out of the office and down the hall to the large double doors leading into the archives.

Before even pushing into the room, he could easily discern the young, high-pitched voices hurling insults from within. Entering slowly, Linda still clinging tightly to his hand, he glanced around, quirking a surprised eyebrow at the scene before him.

A caretaker was positioned in the far corner of the room, pinning an angry, cursing redheaded child to the wall; and L, himself, was standing opposite, looking about in a lost manner as though searching for assistance as he restrained a small, viciously struggling blond from attacking the other boy.

Roger disentangled himself from Linda and crossed the room swiftly, coming to stand between the opposing parties and glared back and forth between them. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

L shrugged noncommittally, reaffirming his grip on the wild array of flailing limbs. "I was simply looking for a particular volume on criminal psychology and happened to hear the screaming," he replied helpfully. He glanced down, mildly annoyed as the boy in his arms made to bite at his wrist.

Roger turned his glare once more to the boys behind the disruption. "Mail! Mihael! Explain immediately."

Mail, the redhead in question, wrenched free from the caretaker and wiped angrily at his bleeding lip, sending a glower at the other child. "_He_ hit _me_ first, Roger!" he yelled petulantly, pointing accusingly at the simmering blond in L's grip.

The adults turned their attention to Mihael questioningly. He 'humphed' in irritation, crossing his arms awkwardly and trying to look aloof, though the effort was rendered useless by the large bruise forming around his right eye. "He called me a girl," he answered in a thick drawl.

"I thought you _were_!" Mail shrieked back, taking a menacing step forward, only to be grabbed once more by the caretaker, "It was an honest mistake with all that hair of yours!"

The blond growled in reply, but said nothing, merely pegging the taller boy with a withering glare.

Roger sighed, rubbing at his temple in annoyance, watching L slouch away in the direction of a bookcase now that the threat seemed neutralized. Glancing down at the two boys who were surreptitiously sizing each other up for a rematch, he quickly intervened. "Both of you, to the infirmary now. Then, I want to see you in my office immediately afterwards to discuss a suitable punishment."

Mail heaved a dramatic sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets as he started slowly toward the door, dragging his feet. Mihael made a point of snatching up the half-eaten bar of chocolate on a side table, before grudgingly following after his adversary.

They paused as Roger spoke up again. "And make sure to apologize to L for disturbing his research!"

Rolling azure blue eyes behind his bangs, Mail slowly turned to face the raven-haired teenager who had been attempting to make a discreet retreat. "'m sorry, L," he mumbled unconvincingly, before quickly heading toward the door.

Mihael, however, stood still, gazing curiously up at the older youth. "Research?" he asked slowly. L nodded distractedly, already flipping through the pages of his book. "What about?"

L lolled his head lazily in the boy's direction, taking him in at a glance before simply saying, "A new case," as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Mihael furrowed his brow, trying to work this through as L shuffled past him, patted him on the head in a preoccupied manner, and murmured so only he could hear, "Welcome to the Wammy's House, Mihael Keehl."

* * *

Mail banged into the room with a huff, slamming the door behind him before flopping onto the closest bed and burying his face in the pillow. 

The second occupant of the room lifted a snowy white head to regard the new arrival with vaguely interested eyes. "Problem?" he asked simply, sliding a piece of his jigsaw seamlessly into place without so much as a glance.

The redhead slammed a fist into his bedspread in frustration before lifting his head to pout at his roommate, hair ruffled with static. "Roger gave me a detention," he moaned.

The other boy seemed unimpressed as he turned his attention back to the puzzle on his desk. "I see. And why is this different from the other dozen times?"

Mail rolled his eyes. "_Because,_" he stressed, "I didn't _do_ anything, Nate." He cupped his chin in one hand while drawing distracted circles on the coverlet with the other. "It was that new kid. The blond. Tried to make polite conversation and he hauled off and _slugged _me. What was I s'posed to do? Lay down 'n' take it?"

Nate regarded him from the corner of his eye. "Surely he had a reason. No sane person would start a fight for nothing."

"Well…" Mail pursed his lips, glancing down, "I may have… called him 'Girlie,' when I asked his name, but still! That's no excuse!" He scowled as the tiniest ghost of a smile flashed across his best friend's face at his tirade. "Anyway," he continued, rolling over onto his back with a sigh, "Roger's making him and me weed the garden in the morning. _Together._" He frowned in distaste at the thought.

"You might try apologizing," Nate said neutrally, already beginning to tune the other boy out.

"Yeah, yeah…" Mail groaned, batting a hand at him dismissively as he reached awkwardly for the Gameboy next to his bed.

* * *

Squinting his eyes against the early afternoon sunlight filtering down through the overhead canopy, Mail lazily mouthed for the straw of his lemonade as he regarded his silent companion. Finally desperate enough for the drink to prop himself up on his elbows in order to grip the glass properly, he watched in interest as muddled sunlight flashed golden across Mihael's hair. 

"…_You might try apologizing…" _

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. He'd never been one to stay ruffled for long, and as the only sentient being currently in Mail's immediate vicinity, Mihael was, at the moment, his only chance of staving off boredom.

The blond snapped off a bite of chocolate, staring intently out in the direction of the football field, and Mail tilted his head at the obnoxiously loud _crack! _the bar made. "Hey, why d'you eat so much chocolate, anyway?" he yelled suddenly, recalling how the other boy had ignored the muffins and finger sandwiches brought out to them in favor of the sweet nestled in his pocket.

He barely caught the flick of Mihael's eyes glancing down at him through the leaves before he pointedly leaned back against the tree trunk, obscuring Mail's view with the thick branch he was perched on. The redhead huffed, picking absently at a tuft of grass. "The silent treatment, huh? You sure hold a grudge, don't you?"

Met only with another stony silence, Mail sighed, standing and brushing off his shorts. He leaned his shoulder casually against the side of the tree.

"Look, I'm sorry I called you a girl, okay?" he said finally, when the sound of chirping birds and cool summer breeze and squirrels and just… _nature_ in general (_blegh_) began to get unbearable, "I hadn't gotten a good look at you yet… and in my defense, you _do _have pretty long hair." He pouted, feeling as though he were talking to the tree itself, and not the stubborn brat high in its boughs.

When a tiny twig dropped into his hair, accompanied by the rustling of leaves and scraping of bark, he glanced up in surprise, meeting the dark, bored eyes peering down at him from above Mihael's branch. "My hair's always been this way," came the simple reply, "I see no reason to change it now."

Thrilling to any sort of conversation, Mail rocked back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, head flung back. "Your mum like it that way, or something?"

A tiny hint of a shrug as Mihael sat back, once again glaring out over the orphanage grounds. "Maybe."

Mail chewed his lip thoughtfully, raking his mind for some way to keep the dialogue going. If he heard one more squirrel chitter he was going to _kick_ something.

Making a jump for the limb closest to him, he swung up and shimmied halfway up to where Mihael sat and looked at him again. "You're not still mad at me, are you? I guess we got off to a bad start, but we could always--"

"What makes you think I'm holding a grudge against you just because you mistook my gender?" the other cut in, his eyes once again flicking in his direction. "Do you think I care about the opinion of someone completely unimportant to me?"

'_Ouch…'_ Mail blushed, glancing down. "Well, I dunno… you just seem mad. Haven't talked to me all morning… and… you're up there all by yourself… and--"

Mihael interrupted again, turning carefully to lay on his stomach on the branch, head lolling over the side, and stared at Mail through a veil of gold. "Maybe I'm just quiet and like to be alone. Have you thought about that?"

Amused, Mail grinned roguishly up at him. "I think you _like_ to talk. And you love attention."

Mihael arched a delicate brow, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. "What makes you say that?"

The redhead shrugged. "Just a feeling, I guess. Same way I get the feeling you hold a mean grudge. You hit me pretty hard, after all." He pointed at his split lip for emphasis.

Mihael rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his chocolate. "Don't flatter yourself by thinking you're the first to call me a girl. You're not _that_ original."

Mail choked back a laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "Then why'd you hit _me,_ if people'd said it before?"

"Yeah, well, I hit all of _them_, too," Mihael replied nonchalantly.

He did break into a fit of laughter this time, earning an odd look from the other boy. Still chuckling, he got carefully to his feet and clambered the rest of the way up the tree so that he was sitting off to the side of Mihael's own perch. "Right, then," he said, thrusting out his hand, "truce?"

Mihael just stared at his outstretched palm.

"I haven't seen you talk to anyone since you've been here," Mail prompted, "You're in no position to turn down a friend."

"I've never had a friend before," Mihael said matter-of-factly, "Why do I need one now?"

Mail faltered for a second, looking straight into hard emerald eyes ('_the same color as the leaves,' _he noted absently) that were far too old… too… _jaded_ for the soft, almost angelic face housing them. "Everyone needs a friend," he said softly, "Especially here. Friends are allies, valuable assets. You never know when you're not strong or smart enough by yourself; when you'll need an extra hand, or brain, or _something_…. 'Sides, friends are the only family you have, now. They're _everything._"

Mihael jerked slightly, taken by surprise as the buried cunning and beyond-his-years-type wisdom which had first earned the redhead a place in the prestigious Wammy's House shone through in deep ocean blue eyes. Blinking, he tore his gaze away from Mail's and stared over his shoulder. He was silent, but after a moment, reached out blindly and shook the still outstretched hand firmly with his own.

An ally was an ally, after all, and Mail seemed as good as any… perhaps even better than most.

Mail beamed at him, settling back against the trunk to follow Mihael's stare toward the children currently organizing a game of tag. "I'm Mail Jeevas, by the way."

This only earned him the second of what he would come to know as the blond's 'Never mind, you really _are_ a flaming imbecile, aren't you?' looks.

"I'm aware of that."

Mail shrugged. "I know. Just seemed symbolic, y'know? Starting over, wiping the slate, making friends, 'n' all that."

"Ah." The pause was so long that Mail thought he was just going to leave it at that. "…Mihael Keehl."

**To be continued.**

_So, I actually had no intention to even start posting this story until I'd had the entire first installment typed up. But, honestly, without my Matt/muse around to constantly help me in the inspiration department... I've been losing the will to write; and if the story isn't worthwhile to the fans in the first place... then it's not worth finishing, right? So, I figured I'd post the first chapter and see how it was received or if people even want to deal with another chronicling story anyway..._

_So, yeah. I'm not entirely sure what the updating frequency on this fic would be... I've got little random snippets of it, all the way up to the ending scene, written out... I just need to fill in the blank spaces. Maybe if I'm prompted... it will be a more efficient process? Who knows?_

_...I've got a kitten laying on my face. Very distracting._

_Bwoff._


	2. II

_**Author's Note: **Blaaaaaaargh! ...Hallo. So, yes, I come bearing more fanfic. Huzzahs all around! Humph. So, I've been having some issues with this part of the story. I have angst and fluff galore written for later chapters... it's just the in-betweens that drive me totally _insane!_ I HATE them! I have so much I want to do with this story and no way to fast forward through all of these damned filler chapters. (Poutpoutpout) Intense hatred._

_**Disclaimer: **Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye!_

**.II.**

Mihael studied the top of Mail's head over the edge of his book, having given up on actually absorbing the words about ten minutes earlier. The redhead was sprawled across every inch of the window seat Mihael had not occupied, laying on his back with both legs extending awkwardly up the wall as his thumbs stabbed avidly at his handheld (which was shoved so close to his face it was a wonder his eyes were even able to focus on it).

After they had been relieved of their gardening duties, Mihael had expected to part ways with his new acquaintance. Their civility for the duration of the detention, he could understand--they had had a common goal, and when Mail got bored, he had been the only reasonable solution. He could also justify the alliance they seemed to have formed--they were the same age, of a similar physical build (Mail may have been larger than the blond, but it was not hard to see that Mihael was in the beginnings of a growth spurt) and they had relatively similar intellects; it only made sense for them to enter into a mutually beneficial affiliation.

However, he had not thought Mail was serious when he had casually thrown out the term 'friend.'

So, later in the afternoon, when the redhead had appeared at the door of Mihael's bedroom to drag him off to the kitchen for a snack, then to Mail's room for his Gameboy, on a daring quest for batteries, and back to Mihael's room to stock up on chocolate and fetch sufficient reading material, before finally ending in their current situation… he had been, justifiably, surprised.

Mihael did not have _friends_--he had cronies, minions, underlings…. Having an influential father certainly had its benefits, but it was only a perk when one was more intelligent than said father by the age of five. He had never had an equal; children his age had squabbled for his favor, practically tripping over themselves to fulfill his smallest whim. Mail, though obviously submissive, was not like the brainless court he had assembled back home--he had an impressive mind… and _was_, for all intents and purposes, Mihael's equal.

The idea of it thrilled and disturbed him at the same time. Though he had spent his younger years yearning for someone able to keep pace with him, he had also been comfortable with his status as some sort of sovereign ruler who was never to be questioned.

Wammy's was a whole new world for him; this institution of prodigy children, lorded over by a mysterious eccentric whose very word was law. Mihael was no longer unique. Each child was more clever than the last. He just faded into the crowd here….

What was the purpose, anyway? Why assemble this group of child geniuses? And what was L's connection? He did not own or direct the orphanage… Mihael had met both Mr. Wammy and Roger the day he arrived. He was just… there, appearing at random, wandering the halls like a ghost, little more than a revered whisper among the orphans. He knew almost nothing of L, none of them did. He had only managed to put together that he was a detective of some sort and alarmingly brilliant; his own run-in with the man the day before had left him with an unexplainable impression of awe and respect. It frightened him, he didn't know how to deal with it… he--

"Hey, Mihael."

He blinked, realizing with a start that he was staring straight into Mail's vibrant blue eyes. "...What?" How long had he been lost in thought…?

"You gonna eat that chocolate?"

He furrowed his brow at the pure normalcy of the inquiry, glancing down at the bar in question. "Yes."

"All of it?" Mail pouted.

"Yes."

"Can I have a little bit?" He smiled at him hopefully.

"No." His face fell and Mihael had to fight back a smirk--Mail looked like a puppy that had just been scolded, and that tiny bit of control over the other boy's emotions was beginning to evoke the confidence that had been locked away when he left Russia.

"Why not?"

A resounding click from across the empty room caught his attention. "Just drop it, Jeevas." He perked up warily, looking toward the door as it swung slowly open, revealing a small, rumpled figure standing just outside, staring at them with unnaturally large, emotionless gray eyes.

Mihael cocked an eyebrow at the younger boy's appearance, taking in the wrinkled white pajamas and introverted posture at a glance, before returning his gaze to a pale face, only to find those unnerving eyes fixed on him in return. He met the stare challengingly, resisting the urge to shudder at the impression that the other boy was looking right through him, analyzing him and weighing his worth.

It was over as soon as it began, the clash taking no more than a few seconds, as the other broke the eye contact, turning his attention to Mail. Mihael bristled, clenching his fist; no one had ever brushed him aside so thoughtlessly.

"Who the heck are you?" he spat, at the same time as Mail exclaimed, "Hey, Nate!"

He glanced at the redhead out of the corner of his eye, surprised by the tone of his voice--warm, welcoming, with an overlying hint of respect.

"Mail." The voice was just as blank and cold as the eyes accompanying it.

Mihael turned his glare back to the newcomer, gritting his teeth as the comfortable, companionable aura of moments earlier morphed into a stifled, awkward silence. Mail glanced back and forth between Mihael and Nate as the two blatantly sized each other up.

"Nate," he said slowly, getting to his feet, "this is Mihael Keehl." He gestured diplomatically to the blond beside him, trying to break the tension. "Mihael, this is my friend Nate River."

Mihael barely nodded, narrowing his eyes and taking a vicious bite of his chocolate as the younger boy slowly twirled a lock of platinum hair around a finger, staring unblinkingly back.

Finally, Nate broke the glaring contest, shifting his calculating gaze to Mail. "It's nearly dinnertime, Mail."

"R-right." The redhead quickly gathered up his handheld, stuffing it into his pocket and hurrying after Nate as the other boy turned silently from the room. Halfway to the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder to where Mihael was still slouched in the window seat, observing Mail with stony eyes. "Are you hungry, Mihael?"

The blond stared at him for a moment, before tearing deliberately into his chocolate. "No."

Mail sighed, watching an afternoon of progress swirl down the drain right before his eyes. "Okay. Um… see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe." Mihael picked up his book, effectively dismissing the other boy as he settled back against the wall.

"Bye, Mihael," Mail whispered, crestfallen, before disappearing into the hall.

Mihael glanced at the door as it eased shut, taking a deep breath. He'd never had a friend before… what had made him think, even for a second, that this place would be any different…? He didn't need friends. …He didn't need Mail.

Pursing his lips, he buried himself back in his book.

* * *

Mail bit his lip thoughtfully, rocking back on the balls of his feet as he gazed out the common room window, watching as the evening breeze gently tussled honey blond hair. Mihael had been out there for almost an hour now, sitting motionless on the same patch of yellowing grass near the fence, simply staring. The redhead huffed in soft consternation. 

It had been nearly a week since his encounter with the new boy—he had thought that Mihael would have gotten over whatever unfriendly bug had burrowed under his skin at the sight of Nate by now. But no. It had been rare to even catch sight of the blond the past few days... and the icy glares were enough to put anyone off. He'd known, the instant they'd met, that the other boy held a mean grudge.

He ran an agitated hand back through tangled crimson locks. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why he really cared. So what if the little brat wanted to be an antisocial hermit who lived off of chocolate bars? It shouldn't make any difference to him. He'd lived without him for nine years already, hadn't he? There was just... some odd charisma that drew him to the other boy... the same strange, overwhelming aura that surrounded Nate; a hint of greatness, intrigue, and mystery. The same feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that he got around L.

Mihael Keehl was something big.

He glanced down to where Nate was absorbed in a model airplane, laying on his back on the floor as the plane looped and twirled in nimble fingers above a snowy head.

Why did he get the feeling that it had to be one or the other? The other day, when the two had met, it had felt like a challenge had been silently put forth and accepted. Like two generals of opposing armies squaring off for the final duel. Only one could reign supreme, come out victorious... only one could win.

He shook his head slightly, glancing up to look once more out the window. Why did everything in this stupid orphanage have to be so bloody difficult!?

Turning away from the window, he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes with a sigh. "Hey, Nate," he said, his head lolling back languidly. When the rustling of cloth accompanying the plane's movements ceased, he looked down at his friend. "Let's play Mario Kart."

* * *

Mihael yawned widely, stretching his arms high over his head as he clomped carelessly up the steps to the front doors of the orphanage, the setting sun casting his exaggerated shadow along the full length of the marble entrance hall. Trailing along the wall of the hallway, he dodged a group of shrieking young boys sprinting in the opposite direction, the haggard caretaker chasing after them, and skirted a small gaggle of girls clumped at the corner. 

"Hey, Mihael!"

He paused, mid stride, in the doorway of the common room. A head of flaming red hair was poked over the couch, grinning and waving him over enthusiastically. Mihael blinked, taking a hesitant step back in the direction he had been heading, before rocking back toward Mail. "Come play with us!" the other boy pleaded.

"Us?" he asked incredulously, cocking an eyebrow.

"Er... yeah..." Cerulean blue eyes flicked to the side as the bright scenery on the television screen flashed across silvery white hair. Mihael scowled, taking another firm step down the hall.

"No," he said simply, openly ignoring Nate as the younger boy turned to glance lazily at him over his shoulder, "I'd rather not."

Mail's face fell and he slumped forward to sprawl over the back of the couch. "Aw, why not?" he whined.

"I--"

"Competition frightens him, Mail," Nate said simply, turning back to the television decisively, "leave him be."

Mihael growled, feeling his eye twitch subtly as he stormed furiously into the room. Rounding the couch, he threw himself irately onto a cushion. "What are we playing?" he grouched, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mail grinned, scrambling forward to plug the third controller into the Nintendo 64 and tossing it to Mihael. "Mario Kart! You can be Peach!" He crawled back to lean against the foot of the couch between Mihael's legs and Nate's small, silent form on the floor.

"I can be _what, _now?" the blond asked scathingly, picking the controller up by the cord and pinching it between his fingers, pegging it with a disdainful glare.

"Peach," Mail grinned mischievously, switching over to a three player game, "Anyway, it's a race. Whenever you get a box, you can use the thing inside it against the other players. You can throw bombs at them... or... slip them up with a banana peel... well, you get the idea." He pressed start, settling back against the couch contentedly.

Mihael grit his teeth, taking the controller into both hands determinedly. "Who are you?" he asked, glancing at Mail out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm Bowser. The dinosaur." He pointed at the edge of the screen, before gesturing to his own head. "We have matching hair, y'see."

Mihael rolled his eyes, glancing over the other two. "Wait-- hey! The hell, Jeevas!? You made me a friggin' _girl!_" He scowled furiously as Mail broke into a fit of laughter and Nate bit back an amused smile. Growling, he wrenched to his feet, flinging the controller to the cushion beside Mail's head.

"Hey, hey!" Mail laughed, throwing himself forward to latch onto the leg of Mihael's pants, "It was only a joke! In honor of how we first met, yeah?" He smiled beseechingly up at the blond, who merely glared at him. "Play with me."

Nate's eyes flicked in Mail's direction as he said that last line, his eyebrows furrowing in slight consternation at the words.

Finally, Mihael sighed, settling back into the cushions petulantly. "Fine," he growled, "But give me another character."

Mail grinned. "Right then... so... how do you feel about Italians...?"

Mihael rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Jeevas, just get on with it, already." His eyes wandered across the screen again."So... River's the little... mushroom-looking thing...?"

"Yeah, that's Toad," Mail said absently, now completely focused on the game.

The on screen traffic light began to shift colors, and Mihael grinned, straightening up excitedly, eyes shifting from the back of Nate's head to his virtual character maliciously. "Okay. Let's go!"

**To be continued.**

_Wow, I'm lame! Let the metaphorical video games begin! lol. Though, in my defense, I _have _been playing excessive amounts of Mario Kart the last few days... and Toad is totally Near. I HATE him. So much. Anyhoo... yeah, sorry the end of the chapter was made entirely of fail. I just... I really want to get on with the story. Blegh. Stupid friggin' intro! HATRED! Yeah. So. Sorry it's so short and crappy. Apologies._

_Reviews_

**-White-Arctic-Wolf-: **(Reels in) lol, thanks so much for reading, I'm glad you like it. Oh! And here... have a virtual chocolate bar for being the first reviewer! (Whisper: ...I stole it from Mello's stash... surely he won't miss one measly little piece. ...Right?) **Ev: **(Blush) Wow, don't spoil me! First chapters are very, very rarely worthy of such praise! Thank you for considering mine one of them! I'm so glad you like it so far and hope you keep reading. **Dawn-at-midnight:** Haha, thanks for reading! It was always my plan to continue it. I just want to skip all the boring intro stuff and get to the drama! This is going to be such a soap opera by the time I'm done! lol. ...That's probably a bad thing, huh? Ugh. **Akura:** I agree. All the great writers are drawn to Light and L (d'oh!) though I'm not really complaining. Haha. Though there _are _some reeeeeeeally good ones out there. If you're still having issues, let me know! I have a list! Heh. Oh, and thanks for reading. Hee. **Zeda: **No problem. I'm freaking addicted to that group. (Blush) I'm on it waaaaay too much. It's probably not healthy. Thanks for reading! **Mattress: **Matt's just so hard to characterize, y'know? I mean... we don't really see him much. So, I guess everyone has their own personal perfect Matt, and it'd be really hard to please everyone. I'm sorry you're iffy... maybe I'll do better later! (Crosses fingers) But thanks for reading, I hope you continue! **Sixverstein: **Oh, that LJ is a horrible thing, getting people addicted to random stuff... Haha, I'm glad you like it, there's nothing better than stumbling onto stuff you like by accident. Thanks for reading! **They Call Me Soysauce: **...Cookie!? (drools) Um. Um. Here! Have an update! Cookiecookiecookie! Gimme my cookie! ...ahem. Yes. Er. Thanks for reading... (Slinks away to live out cookie-induced-humiliation in a dark corner) **JewelummsXO: **I always like the real name usage too. It just doesn't make sense that they would immediately give them an alias. "Okay, orphan-smarty-pants, welcome to Wammy's! Here, have a new identity!" Yeah, what? Riiiiiiight. Anyhoo, thanks for reading! **sei mong: **(Beams) Yay, goop puddles! I love that feeling, I'm so glad I could cause it for someone else! Hopefully, you'll be experiencing that side effect again in the near future! Thanks for reading! **Tsuki: **Woot! I had so much fun with that video. I'm so glad you like them both! I hope this one lives up to your expectations. Thanks for reading! **Aclatis: **...YOU! Bwoff! Hello, muse. I hope you know it's all your fault that I can't find the inspiration to write more. That I have to painfully wrack my brains to even come up with anything slightly interesting. I hope you're happy. I hope you're happy, now. Humph. **youreverlastinglight: **Oh, really!? Thanks! I'm so flattered to hear that! ...I always make fun of that song's title, too. Haha, no worries. So, I went back and read it with it playing, and couldn't stop giggling, because it really is perfect! Ha! Then I remembered it's actual scene and got all emo and had to go eat chocolate. Oh, my beloved L. (Sniffle) ...Yeah, don't listen to any of the Mello themes until the sequel, okay!? lol, thanks for reading!

_Bwoff, people!_


	3. III

_**Author's Note:** (Le sigh) Sorry I haven't updated in a while. My muse hates me. Bah._

_**Musings: **Hmm. Right. Today's topic: names. Someone raised the question of why I'm not using the boys' aliases. Well, this is how I see it. According to supposed information from the L novel (_Another Note_) L was not an orphan at Wammy's; therefore, I'm not entirely sure how he grew up, but he apparently didn't live at the orphanage, which means that even if Wammy's **had **been established by that point, it wasn't for the purpose of looking for an L or an L successor. So, by this time in **my **story, L has been doing detective work for a while, but is only now starting to break onto the international scene. If you'll remember from last chapter, Mello was questioning the motives of the orphanage--none of the children have any idea who L is and as far as they know, Wammy's is just an orphanage/school for gifted children. I don't think it would make any sense for L/Watari/Roger to require aliases of the children before the race to become L's successor had ever even begun. In my opinion, they would probably get the aliases after they'd been established as the next generation of Ls. And on that note, as far as I know, nothing in the actual manga or anime **ever **said that Near, Mello, and Matt didn't know each others' real names. They grew up together! It makes perfect sense! ...In my little world, at least. Correct me if I'm wrong. Hopefully, I did a decent job of explaining my thoughts on the subject._

_Anyhoo..._

_**Disclaimer:**Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.III.**

"So... you don't have a roommate, then?"

Mihael paused, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling as if to ask what heinous crime he had committed to earn a punishment the likes of Mail Jeevas. Dropping his pencil, he watched it roll to a stop in the spine of his notebook, before taking a deep breath and turning to glance at the redheaded boy over his shoulder. Mail stared innocently back at him from his spot on the rug, blinking as the corner of the blond's eye twitched ever-so-slightly.

"No," Mihael grit out slowly, "This was the only open room when I got here. There must be an odd number of boys."

Mail waved at him dismissively. "Eh, they could've roomed ya with a girl. No one would've noticed." He grinned toothily as the twitch made a more prominent reappearance.

"_Jeevas_..." Mihael growled in warning, before he closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and took another gulp of air—whoever decided that deep breaths calmed you down was full of-- "Can we just get the assignment done? _Without _stopping for your stupid questions every two seconds?"

Mail pouted, his shoulders slumping as he collapsed back to lay sprawled out on the floor. "We've already _finished_ the assignment, Mihael!" he whined, sulkily watching the shadow of the leaves outside the window dance across the ceiling, "Ms. Atkinson said to paraphrase _Act One,_ not the _whole bloody play!_"

His companion 'humphed,' turning pointedly back to the battered copy of_ King Lear_ and notebook on his desk. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, flipping the page and scanning the dialogue lazily. "_If he be taken, he shall never more__ Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose,__ How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund,__ Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant__ So much commend itself, you shall be ours:__ Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;__ You we first seize on_," he recited monotonously.

Mail sighed, languidly grabbing up his own copy and holding it high above his head, squinting. "_I shall serve you, sir,__ Truly, however else,_" he droned dutifully in reply, before dropping the playbook onto his face with a groan, listening to the scratching of pencil on paper for a few minutes. "_Mihaaaaael!_" he finally wailed, "We _finished _what she told us to!"

Mihael whirled, slamming the pencil down on the desk as he glared at the redhead. "You want to be my partner!? This is what you get! She's going to ask us to do the whole play eventually, what's the problem with getting ahead!?"

"We're_ nine, _Mihael! We're expected to slack off!" Mail groused, heaving himself up to meet the blond's pointed glare, "And besides, it's only the first week of class!"

"Yeah, and this is one of _five _other projects we've been assigned! In case you haven't _noticed,_ Jeevas, you're in an orphanage for _geniuses! _It doesn't matter if you're nine or _five,_ they expect us to _do _what they give us, and do it well! River's only—what? _Seven?--_and_ he's _working on_ Romeo and Juliet! _Go find somewhere else to slack off if you're so set on it! I can do the bloody thing without you!"

They glared irately at each other for a moment, shoulders heaving, before Mail sighed and toppled back to the floor. "I hate Shakespeare," he muttered in petulant defeat.

Mihael perched his elbows on the back of his chair and propped his chin in his hands, focusing his gaze on a dark purple bruise on Mail's left knee. "But... classes here are always like this, right?" he asked curiously.

"Not really," Mail huffed, propping himself up to meet the blond's stare, "They're actually a lot harder this year."

Mihael's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "It seems strange that they would change all of a sudden," he murmured quietly, scratching nervously at the back of his neck as he stared at the wall over the vacant bed across the room.

Mail cocked his head to the side, taking in the glowing halo the setting sun cast over Mihael's hair. It had been nearly a month and a half, and he still wasn't used to the blond's abrupt mood swings. He shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe they're gonna start kicking kids out if they can't keep up." A very brief flash of alarm glinted in Mihael's emerald eyes as he turned to glance out the window. Mail blinked in confusion. "But hey!" he chirped after a moment of awkward silence, "You've got no worries, right? I mean... you're right up there with Na--"

"I'm going to get a chocolate bar," Mihael interrupted quickly as he jumped to his feet, gritting his teeth angrily at the mere _thought _of being lumped in with that albino _freak._

Mail snapped his mouth shut, turning to watch him storm toward the door over his shoulder. "Oi, wait for me!" he yelped, scrambling up and trotting out into the hallway after the blond. Catching up quickly, he easily paced himself to the shorter boy's strides, lazily pulling his handheld out of the pocket of his shorts and flicking it open.

Mihael glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as they rounded the corner, wondering how Mail could navigate so well with his nose buried in the game. "Why do you play that thing so much, anyway?" he asked testily.

"Why do you eat chocolate so much?" Mail threw back, never taking his eyes off the screen.

The blond scowled, clenching his teeth and choosing to drop the matter as he kicked the door to the kitchen open and stomped irately over to the pantry.

Mail paused the game at the enraged growl that erupted from the other boy's throat, glancing up worriedly to make sure that nothing breakable was in the near vicinity. "...What's... wrong...?" he asked slowly, stepping up to peek over Mihael's shoulder curiously. His gaze fell on the empty stretch of shelf right between the Skittles and the Sugar Babies.

"Chocolate's gone," Mihael snapped, angrily clenching the material of his jeans in his fists.

"Mm," Mail hummed unconcernedly, whirling around to lean against the wall off to the side as he unpaused his game, "Betcha L stashed it all in the basement somewhere."

Mihael gnashed his teeth, glaring daggers at the naked shelf as though he could make a bar of chocolate appear by force of will alone. Finally, after a moment of idle silence, he whirled, storming back through the kitchen doorway and down the hallway. Startled, Mail pushed off the wall quickly, running to catch up with him.

"Where're you going?" he asked in confusion, snapping the handheld shut and shoving it back into his pocket.

"I'm going to go buy some," Mihael said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Mail stopped short, staring at the back of the blond's head like he was expecting it to explode at any second. "Wait... _what? _Mihael, you can't leave the orphanage! It's after hours!" Shaking off his shock, he scrambled after the other boy. "And besides! How're you gonna pay for it?"

Mihael threw open the door to his room, heading straight for the bedside table. "I have money, of course. How _else _did you think I was going to pay for it? How'd you get that Gameboy of yours, if you didn't _pay _for it?" He yanked the drawer open, throwing things aside in his search for the worn wallet he'd stored there on his first day at the House.

"I... actually, I fixed it. It was broken and they were gonna throw it out... but I fixed it, so... they let me have it." He patted his pocket fondly.

Mihael spared him a cursory glance over his shoulder, before returning his attention to the wallet and counting out enough notes to pay for several chocolate bars.

"A-anyway!" Mail protested again, "We can't go out after hours! Roger'd _kill_ us!" He tugged imploringly at the hem of Mihael's shirt as the other boy stalked past him toward the closet.

"Who's this '_we?'"_the blond asked incredulously, yanking a black sweater over his head and staring at Mail curiously as he patted down his hair, "I didn't ask you to come with me."

"Well, of _course_ I am!" Mail stood up to his full height, glaring down at the other pointedly, "You could be killed!"

Mihael rolled his eyes, heading over to where his boots were tucked under the foot of his bed. "Like you'd be much help if I got myself into a life-threatening situation. You'd probably die long before me." He grinned up at the redhead cockily as he laced up his shoes.

"Would not!" Mail protested, a furious blush creeping up his cheeks as he snatched up his own sneakers and plopped down to irately shove his feet into them.

"Fine," Mihael shrugged, getting to his feet and stretching like a cat, "tag along, see if I care. But if you get us caught, I'll kill you myself."

"'m_ not_ gonna get us caught," Mail mumbled petulantly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and dutifully following the other boy out the door.

It was far easier than Mail felt that it should have been for the two to crawl unnoticed past the still open door to Roger's office; the creaking of the front doors was much quieter than he remembered as Mihael beckoned him hurriedly out onto the steps. There were no shouts as they made a mad dash across the lawn toward the front entrance, and no alarms went off as Mihael pressed the button to swing the large gates back on their hinges.

"See?" Mihael beamed cockily as the metal clanked shut behind them, "Piece of cake."

Mail bit his lip, simply nodding in hesitant agreement as he sent covert glances into the shadowy trees flanking each side of the lane up to the orphanage.

"It shouldn't take us too long to reach town," Mihael was muttering to himself, counting things off on his fingers as the two walked, "We'll be back before they do the final room checks, and--"

"Mihael," Mail whispered edgily, "We really shouldn't be out here."

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate."

The redhead pursed his lips determinedly. "But... Miha--"

"Shut _up_, Jeevas! If you're so scared, why the hell'd you come!?" He glared at the other boy, quickly shaking off the hand that had latched onto his wrist. "Why don't you just go ba--"

"Hey, who's your _girlfriend, _Jeeves?"

He paused, eyes narrowing at the voice yelling from further down the lane. He glanced back at Mail again, expecting the younger boy to already be stuttering out an embarrassed excuse, only to find the redhead hunching into himself with a tiny sigh. He blinked, taken aback by this reaction.

"Oi! I'm _talkin'_ to you, freak!"

Mihael spun around, coming face to face with a pack of four boys who seemed to have materialized from the woods behind them--all older, larger, and stupider than both he and Mail. He stood up to his full height, shoving his hands into his pockets unconcernedly and attempting an intimidating scowl. Beside him, he felt Mail reluctantly turn to join him, shifting closer to his side unconsciously.

"Who're _you?" _Mihael spit out venomously.

"Oh _ho_, lookit here, boys," the large brunet upfront sneered with a grin, "We were wrong. Mailman's got himself a _boyfriend._ I'n'it cute?"

"He's _not_ my boyfriend, Wood," Mail muttered indignantly, a tinge of barely visible pink painting itself across his cheeks.

Mihael's brows furrowed in confusion, glancing back and forth between the redhead beside him and the group of thugs leering at them. This subdued, passive Mail was so different from the excited, energetic boy Mihael was used to. The transformation disturbed him far more than he wanted to admit.

"Oh, really, Jeeves? Sure looks like it!" one of the boys pressed with a snicker.

"Hey! He _said_ it wasn't true," Mihael snarled, taking an angry half-step forward, "Sod off! Don't you have anything better to do!?"

"Ooh. Kitten's got claws," one of the goons in the back grinned, nudging the leader--Wood--in the shoulder, "Can we play with him?" The two shared a vicious grin as a cacophony of snickers and grunts erupted from the others flanking them.

Mihael tensed, automatically balling his fists and squaring his shoulders defensively. Mail swallowed, straightening up and hastily grabbing Mihael's arm. "Leave him alone," he growled at the boys more confidently than he felt, "You came to pick on _me_, leave _him_ out of it."

"Aw, but he's far more entertaining, Jeeves," said the second crony, stepping around Wood to leer at Mihael more closely, "Prettier, too."

Mail bit his lip, shooting a furtive glance back up the lane out of the corner of his eye as he felt one of Mihael's hands clench convulsively at the back of his shirt. When had they gotten so far away from the orphanage? If they yelled... would anyone even hear them...? "'m serious, Phillips!" he squeaked, "Just walk away!"

"Oh, get out of the way, nerd!" the goon growled, shoving Mail roughly aside. The younger boy hit the ground hard, letting out a small, surprised grunt at the impact as the gang of teenagers laughed cruelly in the background.

"Mail!" Mihael yelled on impulse, watching the redhead cradle his wrist to his chest, before turning to glare at the boy still closing in on him. Gritting his teeth, he wound back and aimed a fast, hard punch at Phillips' sneering face.

The teenager reeled back with a pained howl, clutching his nose. "Fuck!" he shrieked, stumbling back toward his shocked companions as Mihael darted quickly over to Mail's side. "I think the little bastard broke my nose!" he snarled, tiny rivulets of blood seeping between his fingers.

Mihael dropped to his knees next to the other boy, uncertainly placing a hand on his shoulder as Mail instinctively curled more tightly around his injured wrist. The blond bit his lip frantically. "Mail, are you okay...?"

Wood gestured toward the two, grinning sadistically. "Well, we'll just have to return the favor, won't we, boys?" The group started forward slowly, leaving the bleeding Phillips to grin nastily at the two over their shoulders.

Mihael's head shot up at the sound of crunching gravel and he shifted back, pulling Mail with him. He glanced around frantically, assessing the situation as quickly as he could, looking for any advantage the two young, scrawny geniuses might have over three burly, angry teenagers. Wood, flanked by the two still anonymous thugs, had come level with them now... was reaching toward them with one large hand--

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

Mihael whipped around, wide eyes landing on the familiar, hunched figure shuffling out of the shadows behind them. A foreign feeling of relief flooded him at the very sight of those large beetle black eyes as the older teenager moved forward, placing himself none-too-discreetly between the two huddled children and the advancing gang of boys.

"Shit," Wood hissed, already beginning to backpedal rapidly.

"It's the head freak!" one of the other boys said loudly, turning tail and beginning a hurried jog down the dirt road.

"L…!" Mail exclaimed, eyes lighting up with relieved shock as the detective half turned, crouching down to their level while keeping a constant eye on the retreating figures disappearing down the lane in the direction of town. Mihael let out a slow breath, relief morphing into a strange feeling of calm at the sight of L hovering over them.

The sharp crack of a twig stole his attention and he glanced up, catching sight of Phillips glaring furiously at them from just inside the foliage flanking the road. "This isn't over, Kitten," he hissed, before melting back into the shadows after his friends.

Mihael blinked, turning the threat slowly over in his mind. "Mail, let me see your wrist." He wrenched out of his thoughts abruptly at the request, hastily letting go of the other boy as L reached toward him expectantly. Silently, Mail held out his arm, allowing L to take it gently in his hands and examine the slight swelling at the wrist. The three sat in silence for several long moments, before L got to his feet slowly, burrowing his hands back into his pockets.

"Your wrist is sprained," he said simply, "I assume you twisted it when you fell." He turned, heading back in the direction of the orphanage. "Well, come along, then," he called lazily over his shoulder when the two boys remained glued in their place.

Lunging up hastily, Mihael reached down to help Mail, taking care not to jostle his injured wrist, before they followed dutifully after the teenager. Taking care to keep close to the redhead lest any other unnoticed injuries decided to pop up, he stared thoughtfully at the back of L's head, watching silvery moonlight play off the spiky array of unkempt black hair. What was it about this messy, awkward twig of a man that managed to spark such a deep sense of awe? L looked as though a simple breeze could send him toppling over to shatter into a thousand pieces against the rocky ground—and yet he'd just sent four large, healthy boys scrambling for home with their tails between their legs...

"Mihael." L glanced around at the blond as he opened the gate, not seeming to notice him jump at the sudden attention. "Please accompany Mr. Jeevas to the Infirmary."

Mihael ducked his head, not daring to say a word as he turned, waiting for Mail to reach his side before starting off across the lawn in the direction of the warmly lit windows of the House. "And please be more cautious," L said simply from behind them. They paused for a brief moment. "It was no coincidence that I came across you when I did, but you might not be so lucky in the future."

The blond grit his teeth, blushing furiously as he stalked the rest of the way to the front steps, Mail barely keeping up with his troubled gait.

The nurse on duty insisted on inspecting Mail's wrist for herself, despite the fact that they had told her, off the bat, that it was a sprain. She ushered the young redhead onto the foot of the closest bed, forcing Mihael to keep his distance behind her as she fussed over him, cooing sympathetically and worriedly asking what happened.

"I tripped," he replied simply, meeting Mihael's steady gaze over her graying bun.

When she bustled off into her office in search of a brace--entirely unnecessary, but just a precaution to see that he didn't damage it further--Mihael took the opportunity to plop down on the bed opposite Mail, clasping his hands in his lap and staring studiously at his feet. …He _didn't_ feel guilty for what happened to the younger boy… of _course_ not… it was just--

"You called me 'Mail.'"

His head shot up in a flurry of gold, confused emerald eyes searching out the calm cerulean gaze across from him. "Huh?" he replied eloquently.

"When Phillips--the blond one--pushed me down… you called me 'Mail...' not 'Jeevas,' like you usually do." He smiled, and Mihael averted his gaze quickly, biting his lip.

"S-so!?" he asked, annoyed and embarrassed at his slip.

Mail shifted, glancing around the room as he let Mihael attempt to get a hold on his composure. "So… it was nice. You've never done that before. It… it means you… we're getting closer." He smiled to himself.

"Whatever," the other boy snapped, feeling his cheeks heat up and internally screaming at his obnoxious and entirely unhelpful blood flow. "Who were those morons anyway?" he bit out, desperate to peg the attention on anything other than himself.

Mail cleared his throat uncomfortably, listening to the sounds of the nurse searching through her cabinets. "Just... some guys. They used to come make fun of us during free time. Y'know... they'd stand outside the fence, calling us all nerds 'n' stuff. I guess I'd forgotten about them... they haven't been around for a while." He fidgeted awkwardly, before glancing up suddenly, beaming as he jumped up to join Mihael on the opposite bed. "But you sure showed Phillips, di'n't ya? Man, when his head snapped back like that...! Just, _bam! _Man, it was awesome!" He shook his head admiringly.

Mihael gave him a small smile, glancing up from his hands clasped in his lap. "Yeah. I would've wiped the woods with them if L hadn't showed up." Mail cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, grinning. "No, really!" the blond insisted, glaring indignantly, "I just had to make sure the damsel in distress—that's _you, _by the way--was okay before I got distracted by pummeling their faces in. ...Didn't want you to die or anything. Roger probably would have had a heart attack or something."

"Right, of course," Mail agreed, rolling his eyes as the nurse puttered back in their direction.

**To be continued.**

_Yeah, I know what you're thinking: "Um... what, now?" lol, but don't worry, loyal readers! This is all important later! Plot development and such... you know...! Bwahaha. Yay, our boys are bonding. Wootwoot. And... L! ...And sorry if they're mildly out of character... it felt like I was slipping a bit at the end... but it's 4:47am and I'm quite tired. I think allowances can be made, yeah? _

_Anyhoo, drop a review! I'd be ever-so-grateful!_

_Reviews!_

**Mattress:** (Beams) Excellent! You had me worried for a second, heh. Yeeeeah... the Mario Kart thing actually spawned from a comic... but the Toad thing was all me. Near is _so _Toad. (Rolls eyes) No problem on the responding. And the way I see it, you took the time to give me feedback, the least I can do is personally thank you, right? Which transitions right into the "Thanks for reading! Keep it up!" Hee. **Esoteric Memories (formerly known as sei mong)**Or... is it the other way around...? Ugh. (Is so confused) lol. Thanks for that! I actually thought is _was _pointless fluff... thanks for the reassurance! I actually quite hate the end of that chapter... it's blatantly obvious I was just fishing for a way to end it. (Blushes) I hope my ramble at the beginning explained my take on the names thing...? Anyhoo... thanks for sticking with it, hope you liked this one, too! **Trinity Spark** Eek! Thanks so much! You just gave me little warm fuzzies of happy goodness. (WTF? Lol. No, I dunno what that means, either) I'm glad you like it... I'm trying so hard to stay true to my take on the characters and keep them relatively cannon at the same time... (even though that's pretty hard in MattyMattMatt's case, yeah? Humph.) Well, I hope you keep liking it!**They Call Me Soysauce**I did, I did! (Bounces excitedly at the sight of the cookie) And look! A whole other chapter, too! Ohohoho. Princess Mello's gonna shoot joo. Lawlz. Though, personally, I think Matt is, by far, the "prettier" of the two. Seriously, have you seen the "official" picture of him without goggles!? He's so friggin' pretty and girly! It's hilarious! ...Ahem. Anyway. Thanks for sticking with me! ...And for the virtual cookies. Woot!** judikickshiney**Dude, that's quite a mouthful. Haha. Don't worry, I'm sure Matt has garnered nastier jokes than that... ( insert censored thought bubble here) Yeah. I think I'm losing my touch on the lame-Near-front. I_ hate _Near! ...Hm. Hopefully that will be remedied in later chapters. Heh. Thanks for reading!** Ev**: Yay! I'm so glad I could make your day better! I've been having the crappiest... well... I s'pose it's been about a week now... but it makes me happy to know I brightened your day, thanks for letting me know. Hee. I hope you liked this chapter, too! **My Sublunary Soul**: Your beseechings worked! Huzzah! Yeah, I'm sure it'd be kinda hard for Mello to conduct a functional relationship with anyone, really... so, yeah... Matty gets just as much bitchiness as everyone else! ...Poor guy. And as for Near... well... erm... yeah, I got no excuses, there. He's just _Near._Haha. Thanks for reading! **youreverlastinglight**: Yeah, you better be sorry for the emo! ...O' course, I've got no room to talk, when I angst, I angst hardcore... as you will probably soon realize... But I love this soundtrack you've got going! I don't have any happy enough music to portray their childhood... lol. Except maybe "I Think We're Alone Now," (though not for this story... maybe my oneshot. Heh.) Hope you liked this chapter, can't wait for the song!** Book case**: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it and hope you keep reading! **Dawn-at-Midnight**: Peach is a shameless cheater. I hate her so much. Almost as much as Toad. ...who I hate for entirely different reasons. lol. I'm glad you've liked it so far. I really don't mind reading the intros either... but I'm a very dramatic person by nature and just wanna skip all the fluff and get straight to the angst and drama! ...Ahem. Yeah. Anyhoo... thanks for sticking with me! Hope I didn't disapoint!

_...Bwoff!_


	4. IV

_**Author's Note: **(Author's Note will be located at the end of the chapter, due to the possible chapter spoilers Minion's rambling may contain. Thank you and have a nice day.) Also, has anyone else noticed the whole deleting-random-spaces-after-italicized-words thing? It's flipping annoying!  
_

_**Disclaimer:**Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.IV.**

Mihael trudged the perimeter of the Wammy's grounds, trailing a hand along the icy bars of the iron gate, kicking up miniature flurries of snow with each step; every few seconds a cloudy breath worked its way past the fuzzy white scarf that an overzealous caretaker had wrapped firmly around his neck and chin.

A small, lonely part of him reveled at the desolate isolation that seemed to drape the snowy landscape like a blanket--all of the other orphans were tucked away inside, a never-ending supply of hot chocolate and cider to keep them warm… friends and stuffed animals for company. This time last year, he had found himself perched at a kitchen table over-laden with brightly wrapped packages and a chocolate cake almost twice his size, his mother slathering him with kisses and exuberant birthday wishes. Ten years old, now. What did he have to show for it?

He sighed, stuffing his tingling fingers into the warmth of his pockets as he did an about-face, heading back toward the shoveled walk stretching from the front gates up to the main doors of the orphanage. Burrowing his nose under the scarf, he folded into himself, keeping his head ducked and gaze firmly on the crisp white snow crunching beneath his boots.

Pausing, he blinked owlishly as a pair of hastily tied tennis shoes came into view. Glancing up, he locked eyes with L, who stood enveloped in an overly-large, fluffy winter coat on the shoveled walk. "Good afternoon, Mihael," he said warmly, pulling a candy cane from his pocket and meticulously unwrapping it.

Mihael shifted slowly. "…hi," he said finally, glancing down to focus once more on the teenager's shoes; he didn't want L to see the loneliness surely reflected in his eyes. There was a short silence as Mihael watched the snow slowly soaking through the bottoms of L's sneakers and the young man glanced about unconcernedly, rolling his candy cane back and forth between his lips.

"L." Mihael started, glancing up to see the elderly figure of Mr. Wammy standing behind the messy haired young man, slowly pulling on a pair of expensive-looking leather gloves. When L inclined his head ever-so-slightly to the side to indicate his attention, Mr. Wammy continued. "The car is ready. We need to leave immediately if we're to reach London by nightfall." Catching sight of the small blond blinking curiously at him over L's shoulder, he offered a gentle smile. "Hello, Mihael."

"Hello, Mr. Wammy," Mihael greeted politely.

L removed his candy cane with a wet pop, half-turning to acknowledge the older man. "Of course," he said simply, "I will be there in a moment." Mr. Wammy nodded, his lips twitching below his moustache with the tiniest hint of a smile as he raised his hat courteously to Mihael and strode off in the direction of the gate and the supposed car waiting on the other side.

A soft "ahem," from behind drew Mihael's attention away from Mr. Wammy's long coat flapping around the corner of the gate, and he glanced up to see L observing him with a miniscule smirk, holding a small, plainly wrapped package pinched between two fingers. Emerald green eyes flicked questioningly back and forth between the brown paper and L's pale face as the detective silently wagged the parcel in Mihael's direction. Slowly, the boy reached out, quickly snatching it away at L's affirmative nod.

"Happy birthday," he said simply, popping the candy cane back into his mouth and absently ruffling the boy's golden hair as he turned down the shoveled walk to follow after Mr. Wammy.

Mihael stared blankly at his retreating back, before glancing down. He twisted the package over and over for a contemplative moment, observing it from all angles before ripping into it with an eagerness he wasn't willing to admit even to himself.

"_The Murders in the Rue Morgue_," he murmured to himself as the crumpled wrapping fell forgotten to the snow, "_The Dupin Tales…_by Edgar Allan Poe…." He turned the book over, slowly running his fingers down the spine as he read the short synopsis on the back. A tiny smile crept onto his face as he mouthed the words quietly.

L had remembered his birthday. Not only remembered, but taken the time to get--well… probably ask Mr. Wammy or Roger to get him a present. It was a small gift, nothing to get overly excited about. But still…_L _had remembered _his _birthday. The phantom, reverent whisper had taken the time to give him a present. A tiny pool of warmth trickled into his stomach at the thought, and his smile widened, clutching the book protectively to his chest as he scurried up the walk in the direction of the House.

* * *

Easing the book closed for a moment, marking his page with his thumb, Mihael stretched languidly, arching his back like a cat and yawning widely. Scratching lazily at the back of his head, he glanced out the window--half to give his eyes a rest, half to gauge the lighting; he'd been reading for hours. 

He traced a particularly large snowflake's descent with an easy smile. L couldn't have picked a better present--detective stories were his favorite, there was nothing better than a good mystery in his opinion. Well… maybe a good mystery and a mug of steaming hot chocolate--hmm. Hot chocolate sounded really good right--

A soft thump caught his attention, followed by the muffled sound of something sliding across carpeted floor. He was up quick as a flash, darting across the room and flinging the door open. "Hey, you--!" He paused several paces outside, glancing back and forth down the deserted hallway in confusion. He had definitely heard something…. Shooting one last suspicious glare, he turned to slowly make his way back through his door, switching on the lamp as he stepped inside.

As the warm glow enveloped the room, he caught sight of a small rectangular something lying on the floor, several feet away from the door. Stepping closer, he knelt down, snatching up the chocolate bar with a look of consternation. "What the--?" Flipping the candy over, he read the small scrap of paper taped to the wrapper with a critical eye.

'_Happy Birthday!' _was scrawled messily across the top in all capital letters, followed by, '_It's not much, I know… but it was the best I could do on such short notice. Stuff yer face, mate!' _

There was no signature… though it didn't really need one. Even without the small, hastily drawn Bowser (with a blatantly accentuated shock of red hair) in the bottom corner, there was really no one else it could have been from besides Mail--no one else who knew how much he loved chocolate… no one else who would have taken the time to give it to him at all.

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly as he slowly removed the note, placing it on his desk with far more care than needed before ripping the wrapper off and taking a large, appraising bite. Chewing slowly, allowing the chocolate to melt on his tongue appreciatively, he threw his head back to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling.

He hadn't expected presents, or really even the simple acknowledgement of the occasion at all; he'd told himself that he didn't need them either. Gifts were unnecessary; pointless and useless. But this feeling… the small, growing glow of warmth and contentment settled deep in his chest--L's large, beetle black eyes allowing the tiniest sparkle of amusement…. Mail's wide, toothy grin, the word 'friend' dropping casually from his lips. As cliché as it sounded, cheesy as it felt even within the confines of his own mind--it almost felt better than any present his parents had ever set before him. To have people who cared, who truly--

…He needed milk. Grimacing slightly at the half-eaten bar of chocolate, he quickly rewrapped it and stuffed it into his pocket, before heading out the door and down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen. What was wrong with him…? Fuzzy feelings of warmth and friendship. He didn't need it! …They were just quirks. Didn't mean he couldn't fend for himself just as easily without them.

* * *

Mihael ran a hand back through his hair as he walked, skirting along the wall of the hallway to avoid the crowds of children standing between him and the quiet solitude of the library. Tuning out the excited shrieks of the other orphans, he mentally rattled off the list of books he would need if he was going to be properly prepared for the test the next day--the final exam before they were given a break for the holidays. 

"_Ha!_ Exterminate _that!_ A-booya!"

He paused several steps past the entryway into the common room, listening to the voices within laughing and heckling as background music crescendoed dramatically. Backpedaling, he glanced inside, catching the telltale mop of fiery hair over the back of the couch.

Leaning casually against the doorway, he silently surveyed the scene before him; taking in Mail bouncing excitedly on the couch, accompanied by an exuberant brunette, both glued to the television screen and crowing triumphantly; River had settled himself in the corner of the room beneath a window, curled on the floor in front of a large, complex puzzle; and the only other occupant of the room was a second dark-haired girl perched at a desk, scribbling furiously in a notebook.

He crossed his arms, his brow furrowing as his glare settled on Nate's platinum head. In the week since his birthday, he had only seen Mail during class and at meals… the redhead's spare time seemingly dominated by the younger boy. Though he had been loath to admit it, Mail's noticeable absence had not been sitting well with him. He had gotten too used to the gamer's presence, taken it for granted perhaps… and now--

"Oh,hey Mihael!"

Mail's voice, surprised and more than a little pleased, broke him from his brooding and he blinked, glancing about to see four pairs of eyes focused on his presence in the doorway. He straightened up, stiffly nodding in the general direction of the couch, studiously ignoring the boy in the corner.

"Whatcha up to?" Mail chirped, turning to drape himself over the back of the couch, grinning at the blond.

Mihael shifted, forest green eyes panning the room. "Studying," he said simply, knocking his bag forward for unneeded emphasis.

Mail made a face, rolling his eyes and turning to scoff in the direction of his couch companion. "He's _studying, _Mail,_"_ the anonymous female mimicked scathingly, grinning back.

"I'm_ sorry_," Mihael broke in irately, sending a scowl in her direction, "Have we met, or do you take that tone with _all_ strangers?"

Mail laughed as emerald clashed angrily with mildly irritated hazel across the couch. "Mihael, this is Abigail… that's her sister, Autumn," he gestured in the direction of the silent party still hunched over the desk, who raised her right hand and waggled her fingers at the blond absently, "they're in the year above us."

Mihael made a disgruntled grunting noise in greeting.

"We're watching _Doctor Who,"_ Mail continued happily as Abigail swiveled back in her seat to face the television as the commercials ended, "Care to join?" he raised his eyebrows, blue eyes large and pleading as he stared over at the other boy.

"I--" Mihael hesitated, fingering the strap of his book bag. "I shouldn't," he said finally, surprised to note that there was real regret echoing in his voice, "I really should study for tomorrow, and--"

"Oh, you'll be fine!" Mail pouted, "You're the smartest in our class! No one's even close to you, what do you have to worry about?" He cocked his head to the side, smiling.

Mihael nibbled on his lip, torn. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of River sitting up to peg him with that blank, calculating stare, waiting to see what he would do. He could practically hear the little creep monotoning in his head,_ "What good would the studying do you, anyway? You're the top of _your_ class, yes, but you'll never beat _me._"_ His lips twisted into a furious snarl as the younger boy seemed to lose interest and went back to his puzzle.

"_Fine,"_ he growled, "I don't need to study anyway." Dropping his book bag with an unceremonious thump in the door, he stormed around the couch and settled himself sulkily in the seat on Mail's left. The redhead grinned happily at him for a second, before turning excitedly back to the Doctor.

Mihael stared blankly at the TV screen, allowing his mind to wander. He'd consistently been getting the top score in his age group, that was true… Mail was the only student anywhere near him, and of course the redhead didn't apply himself nearly enough to be a threat to his standing. River, though…. They were in separate classes, but he couldn't help noticing that the younger boy had received straight perfect scores the full semester. Damned robotic freak. Mihael was_ never_ second.

He paused in the furious gnashing of his teeth as a thought occurred to him, his eyes widening as they rolled to glance at Mail. …Had the redhead noticed his failure…? Noticed and found him wanting? Was that why he had been spending so much time with Nate lately…? Because Mihael wasn't good enough? Because Nate was… better? He swallowed uncertainly, his gaze darting once more to River's pale head across the room. Was he losing Mail to River...?

His fingers dug furiously into the material of the armrest at the thought. Ever since their first meeting, there had been an unspoken rivalry between the two. Mihael's emerald eyes narrowed, zeroing in on Nate's spindly fingers as they pressed the final puzzle piece into place. Academically, he had been one step behind River since classes had started; his only consolation was that competition seemed to be isolated within grade-levels. If scores were to open up to the entire institution, though….

He would _not_ lose this battle. The grades were bad enough on their own; he would not give Mail up to this dead-eyed mutant. Maybe River had been Mail's best friend prior to his arrival, but soon enough he would see how much better Mihael was--smarter… more fun--just… _better._

The television screen faded to black, marking the end of the Doctor's latest adventure. Mihael settled back into the corner of the couch, content with the battle strategy beginning to formulate in the back of his mind, and stretched out, casually draping his legs across Mail's knees and crossing them at the ankles.

There was a short, pregnant pause as Mail froze, cerulean eyes flicking down to the socked feet perching on his thigh. A surprised grin quirked the corner of his lips for a second, before he turned to listen to Abigail's prattling commentary about "Paul McGann being, by far, the best Doctor to date…" casually resting his forearms on Mihael's shins as he channel surfed for the next hour of entertainment.

Mihael bit back the triumphant smirk threatening to break across his face at this acceptance, surreptitiously glancing at Nate through the cover of golden bangs. His lip twitched gleefully as stony gray eyes narrowed marginally before the younger boy purposely overturned his puzzle, scattering the pieces and starting anew, ignoring the other occupants of the room. Mihael turned his attention back to the TV, stretching luxuriously.

"Man, there is absolutely _nothing_ good on!" Mail complaining after the second round trip through the channels.

"Let's watch the news," Autumn suggested placidly, coming to perch on the armrest beside her twin sister.

Mail made a face, before turning to Mihael for support. The blond shrugged noncommittally. "There's nothing else on, we might as well," he supplied, snatching the remote from the redhead and panning through the channels in search of a news broadcast.

"_Ew_, Mihael," the other boy sniffed disdainfully.

"Oh, grow up, Mail," Mihael shot back, shoving his shoulder lightly as he finally settled on a station covering a unexplained string of murders occurring throughout Westminster, literally right under Scotland Yard's nose.

"_In light of the Ministry of Defense's inability to resolve the case_," continued a relatively pretty female newscaster clad in a garishly pink sweater, "_Parliament has unanimously agreed on the involvement of outside parties. All files and evidence relevant to the case have been handed over to the person or persons mysteriously referred to only as 'L.'"_

Mihael sat up abruptly, dropping the remote to the floor as he scooted to the edge of the couch--a gesture mirrored by the three beside him--staring intently at the large Gothic-style "L" emblazoned in the top corner of the screen. In his corner, Nate paused, glancing up as the broadcast continued.

"'_L's' identity, whether as an individual or a group is being kept in the strictest of confidences. The only information currently being released is Interpol's budding interest in the case--and that it was the international organization's suggestion to involve 'L.'"_ She paused to shuffle the papers in front of her, clearing her throat, before pegging the camera with a brilliant smile._ "…This station will continue to air details of the case as they are released. In other news--"_

Mihael dug blindly for the remote, snatching it up and numbly switching the television off before turning to stare, wide-eyed, at Mail.

"Is that… _our _L?" Abigail whispered softly, as though afraid to discuss information they should not have overheard, as she glanced back and forth from her sister to the boys on her other side.

"I… I dunno," Mail responded, bewildered.

Mihael swallowed, sitting up straight as Mail's wide blue gaze settled back on his face searchingly, as though requesting guidance. "We don't have any reason to believe it's not," he said simply.

"Nor do we have any reason to believe it _is._"

The four on the couch glanced up to see Nate standing slowly, raising his blank gaze to study them neutrally as he curled a lock of hair absently around his finger. Mihael bristled at the younger boy's blatant opposition of his earlier statement, clenching his fists furiously in the material of his jeans.

"It would be best," Nate continued, "if we did not make uninformed assumptions. Just because we know an 'L' doesn't mean it is_ that _'L.' We should wait until he returns to pass judgment."

"You think he'll just come out and tell us, if it's him!?" Mihael growled angrily.

"I didn't say that," Nate responded blandly, eyes raking over Mihael appraisingly, "I said we should wait for his return. Surely there are other ways to confirm or disprove your theory." That said, he bent down and gathered up his puzzle, before retreating out the door, not sparing a second glance in their direction.

Mihael glowered after him, grinding his teeth. A gentle tug on the sleeve of his sweater caught his attention, and he turned to meet Mail's excited, determined gaze. "I think it's him," he whispered, "You said he was going to London, right? How many people who go by just 'L' can there _be_ in one city?" He scrambled to his knees on the couch, flinging his arms about enthusiastically. "It_ has _to be him!"

Behind him, twin mahogany heads nodded their agreement.

"Yeah," Mihael said softly, settling back into the couch cushions, "I think so, too."

**To be continued.**

_**Minion's Afterthoughts: **So, at first, I was all excited for this chapter 'cause (gets up on her soapbox) it means the story's moving forward! Rock! But now, as I'm proofreading, I have very mixed feelings about it. I love the content… not sure how I feel about Mel's characterization in it. Granted, I see Mello as a very emotional person… he obviously tends to hide it, except for the anger... but he deeply respects L (seeds of hero-worship successfully planted!) and recognizes that Matt is his best friend and cares for him as that dictates. But I can't imagine him showing it often. And with that in mind, I think I might've made him too…**soft** in this chapter. I dunno. Still not sure how I feel about him. Let me know what you all think. Also, Mello is such a freaking spazz! lol!  
_

_And(!) worry not! Though you have encountered the dreaded OC (two, in fact! The horror!) in this chapter, they actually have a **purpose!** (le gasp!) These are not classic Mary Sues, nor any subspecies thereof. They will not be stealing any spotlights, will not be main characters (probably won't show up much at all, in fact), are not perfect in any way, and are not there just to be boring romantic interests (blegh). They are just random Wammy's children. Right. Moving on._

_Anyway,** PLEASE REVIEW! **It makes my life ever-so-much better!_

_Review'd!_

**Esoteric Memories: **Eh. (Shrug) This wouldn't be anywhere near the worst thing a fanfic author changed about DN. …(shifty eyes) lawl, I'm sure my Mello will be all sorts of into the psychobabble and such. Hee. Never heard of Hellblazer… do tell…? Thanks for the continuing reviews, they're much appreciated! **MiNoRiTy5472: **Thanks so much for reading and taking the time for the feedback! M&M forever! Woot! **mustypaperback: ** Thanks for reading it. I s'pose the video really does stand on its own, but I'm really excited for the full outcome of the story. I think Wammy's is a friggin' soap opera. Haha! At least, the Wammy's in my mind is…. Anyway, thanks so much for taking the time to actually read it! **aya: **Agreed. Thanks for reading! **Dawn-at-Midnight: **I love that L guy. Hee. Matt is such a damsel in distress. My roommate went on a rant about Legend of Zelda and DN the other day… far too long for a simple summary, but in short, Mello was Link… and… Matt was Malon (damsel in distress'd!) and, yeah. It was a thing. Heh, anyway… thanks for the review…s! **Trinity Spark:** HaHA! You are beginning to delve into the twisted inner workings of my mind… everything is either a blessing in disguise, or a doorway to terrible, heart-wrenching angst! Hee. And we all know that Mello looooooooves Matt. _Loves_. lol. Glad you liked it, hope you liked this one! **judikickshiney:** Hee, thanks. Glad you liked it. Hmm. Official Matt picture… I don't remember the exact link I found it at… but I made fun of it on my livejournal… half a second… (searches, searches…) here: http://theminion2001 (dot) live journal (dot) com/ …it should be the top one. He be preeeeeetty. **Billie the fourth sage: **Thanks so much for reading and taking the time to review! I'm so glad you like it, and I hope you continue reading! **youreverlastinglight:** l awl, are you making fun of my crappy bully nicknames!? Humph. How dare ye. Heh. I like the choice of music this time. That song _is_ rather disconcerting…. Bwaha! Plot development ftw! …L ftw, too. 'Cause he's awesome 'n' such. Woot. Next song, next song!! (claps happily) **Ev:** Aww. Don't be sorry, the fact that you reviewed at all is enough for me! (Is shameless review whore, heh) Sad day for your internet being down. When that happens to me, I sit in the corner and mumble incoherently. It's a horrible thing. Geh. Plot development, woooooooooot! **Mahri: **Thanks! I'm glad you think so. I try oh-so-hard, but it always seems like I slip… I'm glad you don't agree. Thanks so much for reviewing, I'm glad you like it! **NormalAddict: **Haha, nah… just my best friend. Although we have decided that if either of us were a guy, we'd probably be set for life. lol. Aren't Matts great, though… I wish I had one to date… luuucky. (Pouts) Anyhoo. Thanks for reading, glad I could keep you entertained for a while! **Aclatis: **Bwoff. And it's Oliver _Wood_ ya dweeb. You call yourself a Potter fan!? …'course, we're much more Marauder-oriented than Trio-oriented. I hate your son, Prongs. He's such a whiney little bint. And of course you're still my muse. Who else would I bounce ideas off of? Padfoot? Pfft. **Tubular Fox: **Wow, thanks for thinking it worthy of passing it on… all of them, I guess! (blushes) I'm so flattered you liked my stuff that much! Thank you! For all that _and_ for the reviews… I hope I keep up to your standards!

_Yeah, um... review, yes...? Bwoff!_


	5. V

_**Musings Part Two - "Canon, Fanon, and World Domination" **: There are four things about Mello and Matt that I absolutely will **not **give in on, no matter what manga, anime, or fanbase says. **Number One: Red. **Matt is a redhead, damnit! The anime gave him **two** scenes; even the **manga** had more Matt action than that. Therefore the animators have no say, and anime!Matt is **not **my Matt. There was one saving grace to anime!Matt… which segues into** Number Two: Blue. **I like anime!Matt's eyes. Not all redheads have green eyes. In fact, the only redhead I know who has green eyes is me. And my hair's far closer to brown than red, anyway. Quite a few of them have blue eyes. And I like Matt with blue eyes, so deal. And on the eyes theme…**Number Three: Green.**__ Mello __is the one with green eyes. That was one thing I loved about anime!Mello. I **loved** his green eyes. Because of that, my Mello will have green eyes **forever**. No matter what anyone says. Loooooove the green. And finally, **Number Four: Height. **It makes no logical sense in my head that Mello is taller than Matt. My Mello is tiny and vicious… like a Chihuahua; and Matt is bigger and more easy-going… like a Great Dane. It just seems far more natural to me. I will not yield! My Matt is taller than my Mello, end of story. These are the rules of my Death Note world. Feel free to replace any adjectives with another of your choosing. Thank you, have a pleasant day._

_ By the random by... Abi and I made a new music video for the story. If anyone's interested, here's the link: www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?vA-b3jU9LGu0 Y'all know the drill with the links... (rolls eyes)just replace the (dot)s with periods. Woot!  
_

_**Disclaimer:** Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.V.**

Mihael popped a small chunk of a chocolate bar into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he turned the page. Across the room, Nate had settled himself beneath one of the larger tables, and was in the midst of setting up an intricate battle with the toy soldier set he had gotten for Christmas; every once in a while, Mihael would shoot an irate glare at the younger boy over the pages of his psychology textbook.

A decidedly uncomfortable air permeated the common room, accompanied by a thick silence as the other orphans scattered about the room shot nervous looks back and forth between the two--cautious… terrified that even the slightest disturbance would set the volatile blond off and it would be the end for everyone.

Crumpling up his candy wrapper, Mihael dropped it unceremoniously onto the window seat next to him as he watched Nate carefully place the last tiny soldier at the end of a meticulously straight row. His eyes narrowed as he watched the snowy-haired little boy settle onto his stomach, kicking his legs up and down as he carefully inspected the battlefield before him.

Finally, the quiet proving too much for him, Mihael let out a quiet growl and slammed his book shut. "Where's Jeevas?" he asked loudly--for lack of better silence-breakers--pointedly ignoring the shocked squeaks from the group of girls at the table next to him.

Nate cocked his head to the side ever-so-slightly, plucking one of the toy men from the ranks before him and bulldozing his way through the opposing group. "I don't know," he said simply, not even sparing the blond a glance, "He's the one that keeps track of me, not the other way around."

Forest green eyes narrowed furiously at the subtle barb. There was another short silence, broken only by the muted sound of plastic against plastic, while Mihael drilled angry holes into the top of Nate's head with a heated glare and the other orphans attempted to continue their work as silently and discreetly as possible.

"Did you want to play, Mihael?" Nate finally asked--all-too-innocently--glancing up to meet the older boy's pointed stare for the first time.

Mihael huffed, a small, sardonic grin twisting his lips at this, settling back to lean against the windowpane. "Heh. _Kids' toys_ aren't really my thing, River," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest with a haughty smirk.

Nate only blinked, one hand slowly raising to idly wrap a strand of hair around his finger as fiery green and icy gray clashed across the room. "Something else, then?" he mused, noting Mihael's confident smirk dimming slightly as he turned to glance about, "Chess, perhaps?" He nodded slowly in the direction of the battered chess board propped against the T.V. stand.

Mihael frowned, following the other boy's gaze. '_A challenge…?'_ His eyes flicked from the board to the barely concealed smile tugging at the edges of River's mouth contemplatively. Gritting his teeth, he got to his feet, tossing his book aside. "You're on," he growled, stalking over to the table the other boy had been huddled under as Nate shuffled around the couch to retrieve the chess set.

A different sort of hush had settled over the room, now--the other children seemed frozen in their own activities as the two boys swiftly set up the pieces, pausing to watch the potent battle of wits brewing in the center of the room.

Nate set the last pawn in place, before casting a surreptitious glance at the older boy from behind unkempt platinum bangs. "I hope you don't mind taking black, Mihael?" he asked monotonously, not waiting for an answer as he slowly, pointedly swiveled the board so that the white pieces were laid out before him.

Mihael bit the corner of his lip, his eyes narrowing marginally. "_Whatever_," he hissed. _'I'm much more suited to black anyway….' _"White moves first, River."

"I'm aware."

* * *

"Alright!" Roger called loudly, swinging the kitchen door open with a flourish, "I think that's quite enough for one day, don't you?" 

The boy perched on the stepping-stool before the sink turned slowly, pushing a clump of sopping crimson hair out of his eyes. "_Quite_," he replied, the slightest hint of mockery coloring his response. Wiping his soapy hands on the apron about his waist, he hopped down and quickly made his way over to where Roger stood in the doorway, beaming at the pile of sparkling clean dishes stacked on the counter.

"I do hope you've learned your lesson, Mail?" the elderly man asked, quirking an eyebrow as he held out his hand expectantly for the apron. An incredulous cobalt stare was his only reply. He chuckled lightly, twisting the damp material in his hands absently. "Well, away with you, then. Go change into some dry clothes."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Mail muttered petulantly as he turned to shuffle his way down the corridor in the direction of a warm sweater.

Roger sighed, shaking his head slightly as he puttered about the kitchen, retrieving a cup and saucer for his afternoon tea. "Young people these days have no respect," he lamented to himself as he vacated the room, retreating into the hall with his Earl Grey, "no sense of privacy… and Mail, one of our brightest!" He gave another despairing shake of the head as he stirred his tea.

Encountering a small crowd of excitedly murmuring children gathered around the doorway of the common room, he slowed to a halt with a small, confused frown. "What's all this about, Jessamine?" he asked a taller boy near the back of the group, placing a weathered hand on his shoulder.

"River and Keehl are playing chess," he replied without turning, straining up on his toes in order to get a better view.

Roger blinked, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline in surprise. "They are…?" Wading into the group, he glanced around the doorframe to catch sight of the duo at a table in the center of the room.

Nate sat calmly perched on top of a large dictionary, twirling a strand of pale hair around his forefinger as his calculating gaze scanned the board. Reaching out, he slowly maneuvered his queen-side bishop several diagonal spaces to the right before settling back and looking at the blond across from him expectantly. Mihael--who had been up on his knees, grinding his teeth as he hovered over the pieces warily--heaved a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he lashed out to snatch up one of the white pawns and replaced it with his rook.

Roger hmm-ed approvingly, nodding his head in relief. It was about time those two started getting along. Turning, he gave Jessamine's shoulder a gentle pat as he continued his stroll down the hallway. If only Nate and Mihael could somehow overcome their strange abhorrence of each other; there was so much potential there….

* * *

Mihael growled, jade green eyes sparkling with subdued rage as pale fingers plucked up his queen and slowly set it down on the table beside the board. He glanced from his surrendered queen to the large collection of captured white pawns to his left. …_River was better._ While Mihael had been jumping at every chance to take one of Nate's pieces, the younger boy had been biding his time, systematically waiting for the larger victories. He had not wasted time on Mihael's pawns, choosing instead to dismantle his army from the top; his knights, a bishop… now his _queen_…. What were a few pawns and a lowly rook to _that?_

He gnawed furiously on his bottom lip, quickly mapping out where each of River's essential pieces were, analyzing any and every way to take them out with the few remaining pieces he had….

"Checkmate."

He froze, his eyes going wide as he stared at the bishop he hadn't even noticed before as Nate pointedly maneuvered it to corner the black king.

* * *

"Oi! What's going on?" Mail forced his way through the gaggle of kids blocking the door of the common room. He was tired, he was annoyed, he was _damp… _and all he wanted to do was collapse onto the couch and vent his frustration through a couple rounds of Mortal Kombat; was that so much to ask? 

Wrestling his way to the front of the group, he caught sight of Nate and Mihael squared off on opposite sides of a chess board, staring each other down. He paused, his eyebrows knitting together in consternation._'What the--'_ Chess pieces went flying in all directions as Mihael furiously batted the board across the room.

Mail ducked instinctively as, behind him, the spectators scattered with several shrieks. Glancing up, he watched, wide-eyed, as Mihael lunged across the table, catching the collar of Nate's shirt in one fist and winding back with the other.

"Mihael, no!" Mail yelped frantically, springing across the room and latching onto the blond from behind. Mihael snarled, struggling to free himself from the bigger boy's grasp as Nate toppled off his chair to land in a rumpled heap on the floor. "Mihael! C'mon, man! Snap out of it!" Mail yanked him back against his chest, pinning the other boy's flailing arms to his sides.

"Let_ go_!" Mihael howled, scratching at the redhead's arms, his livid gaze locked on Nate as the small boy got slowly to his feet, unblinking eyes darting from the violently struggling blond to the arms clamped firmly around his chest.

"Get _away_, Nate!" Mail grunted exasperatedly as Mihael landed a sharp elbow to his side, throwing their weight off-balance and sending both of them toppling to the floor. Casting a worried glance over his shoulder, Nate turned and made his way quickly out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Silence overtook the room, punctuated only by the breathless panting of the two boys tangled together on the rug.

"Are you done?" Mail snapped, rolling over to pin the blond boy beneath him, glowering irately, "What the heck!?"

Mihael scowled, wrenching his wrist out of the redhead's grasp and shoving him off. Silently, he sat up, his back turned to Mail as he angrily straightened his sweater, glaring at a tiny black pawn that had rolled to rest against the overturned chair in front of him.

"Geeze, what's _wrong_ with you, man!?" Mail groused, wincing as his fingers found the spot where Mihael had elbowed him. He glared angrily at the other boy's tussled golden hair. When Mihael's stony silence only continued, he sighed, closing his eyes and reaching up to rub his cheek. '_He's unstable, you've known that from day one. Why are you so surprised…?'_

"_How?_"

Mail blinked sapphire eyes open confusedly, glancing up at the rigid, trembling figure sitting across from him. "Wha…?"

"How is he better than me, Mail?" Mihael tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, glancing at the other boy over his shoulder. "No matter how hard I try… he… he always--he's _better!" _

Mail closed his mouth dumbly, unsure of how to respond. "Well… I wouldn't say he's _better_, Mihael--"

The smaller boy snarled ferociously. "He _is. _You know it, I know it, this whole damn place knows it! He's younger than me and he always _beats _me!"

"He always beats _me_, too, y'know," Mail replied with a tiny, sly smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I--!" Mihael paused, whatever he was about to say freezing somewhere in his throat, and he blinked at Mail as the redhead slowly began to gather the chess pieces within arm's reach of where he sat. Mihael crossed his arms, irately staring down the table leg. "That's… not saying much," he finally finished lamely, snatching up a stray rook and tossing it over his shoulder in Mail's direction.

Mail smiled gently, though the blond couldn't see it, gathering his collected pieces into a pile before crawling over to the other boy. "Not for _you_, maybe," he said, "but I'll have you know that I'm quite a formidable presence in this establishment!"

Mihael snorted, resting his chin on his arms in exhaustion as the hot rage slowly drained out of his body. Behind him, Mail let out an exaggerated sigh and stretched languidly, before collapsing to rest his back against Mihael's. The blond grunted softly at the added weight, but made no comment as a comfortable silence slowly permeated the room.

"You're getting my neck wet," he grouched after a moment, scooting to the side and letting Mail fall to the rug with a surprised yip, "'d you just get out of the shower or something?"

"Roger's idea of unimaginable torture, actually," the redhead replied with a grimace, sitting up to rest his weight on his elbows, "He made me do dishes for my detention. Blegh!" He made a face.

"Detention?" Mihael asked sharply, glaring down at the other boy disapprovingly, "For what?"

Mail shrugged carelessly, picking at the carpet in a bored manner. "He caught me on his computer last night."

Mihael scrunched up his nose at this. "Why were you using his computer? There're tons of them in the library."

"Yeah, but none of those have top secret, classified information on 'em, do they?" Mail whispered conspiratorially, wiggling his fingers for dramatic effect, "I was bored, figured I'd try my hand at hacking." He grinned roguishly at Mihael's shocked expression. "Took him two months to catch me. Now he'll go and reconfigure everything…" He sighed despairingly.

"Stupid!" Mihael hissed, kicking at Mail's knee with a sort of dull irritation, "Of all the things to do when you're bored, why'd you decide to hack Roger's computer!?"

"'Cause I could, I guess," Mail replied blandly, cocking an eyebrow at the blond's outburst, "Yeesh, don't get your knickers in a twist! That _was_ how I knew when your birthday was, after all!"

"Oh, well…." Mihael thought this over, remembering the hastily-gifted chocolate bar and those bloody warm, fuzzy feelings that had accompanied it--the first true feelings of friendship and camaraderie he'd ever felt for another human being. He shook himself. "Stupid! Why'd you get caught!?"

Mail grinned, rolling his eyes as he reached up to playfully shove Mihael's arm out from under him.

* * *

"--_wasn't_ taking sides!" Mail sighed as Nate only hugged his stuffed cat closer, seeming to curl up into a protective ball around the little plush creature, burying his face into its fur. 

The redhead groaned, wrapping his arms around his knees and glaring at his roommate half-heartedly; he forgot, most of the time, just how young Nate really was--that behind the child prodigy… deep underneath the genius IQ, he was still just an eight-year-old kid, with eight-year-old-kid emotions.

"I stopped him from _killing_ you, and you think I was taking his side?" His only response was the distraught wiggling of the younger boy's toes. "Ugh! I hate it when you're like this!" Flopping back to lay on his bed, he rolled over in frustration, pegging the wall with a scowl.

The two laid in a stony silence broken only by the sound of a glorious snowball fight taking place just below their window. After a moment, Mail's curiosity got the better of him and he clambered to his knees in front of the window. Pressing his face against the chilled glass, he stared longingly down at the group of children happily bombarding each other with hastily compiled snowballs.

"I don't know why you two can't get along…" he murmured, knowing that Nate would hear his hushed tone. His eyes locked on to a golden head right in the thick of the action, watching as Mihael managed a rather lucky duck and roll before bolting up and pegging his attacker in the shoulder with a triumphant laugh. A tiny, affectionate smile worked its way across Mail's lips. "But I'm not going to choose between you."

* * *

Mihael yawned, lazily wiping the window clean and not at all caring that he was leaving new streaks on the glass in the process. Honestly, he hadn't even _landed _the punch! Was a detention _really _necessary? Stupid River brat. When he found out who had squealed on him…. 

Rolling his eyes, he shuffled idly in the direction of the next window. There were far better and more important things he could be doing with this time--like studying for that big algebra test in a couple days…. Really, geniuses shouldn't be given detention. There was abso-- He blinked, focusing his gaze beyond the soap dripping down the glass, and stared intently at the black car that had just pulled to a stop outside the gate.

Another lonely, childless couple looking to fill that gaping hole in their lives, perhaps? He grinned slightly, though it was far less malevolent and more lonely than he wanted to admit as he waited to see who had come to visit the secluded orphanage. He nearly dropped his roll of paper towels as the back car door swung open and harsh mid-February sunlight glinted sharply off the messy tangle of black hair that appeared.

His eyes widened marginally as he took a short, hitched breath, before darting down the corridor, all thoughts of window-washing and test preparation abandoned along with the paper towel roll.

L...

**To be continued.**

_ Jessamine is pronounced "Yes-uh-mean."_

_Uh. Yeah. Anyhoo… sorry the ending was mega lame. But I needed to stop it there in order to make the next chapter of sufficient length. …Yeeeeeeah…._

_So, REVIEW, yes? I'd be ever-so-grateful!_

_Review'd!_

**Dawn-at-Midnight:**Phew. Glad to hear that my fears about the OCs are mostly unfounded. I hate Mary Sues. Ew. I also hate the "OMG, we totally got sucked into Death Note, lol, and now L and Light (and/or) Matt and Mello are totally in love with us! Like, totally!" plot. Blegh. Anyhoo… I hope you liked this chapter! **Aclatis: **Two words, my friend: …Doctor. Who. **Esoteric Memories: **L in an oversized, fluffy anything is just the most adorable thing ever! Eeeek! (Giggles) Anyhoo. I know it's not **really** soon… but I hope it's okay…? Thanks for the review! **aya:**Hee. Thanks. Mello is totally a spoiled little rich brat… I mean, with the way he acts all the time, there's really no way around it! I'm so glad you liked it!**youreverlastinglight: **Heh. I'll admit, I was a little "WTF?" when you said the Misa Theme… but I actually agree. I'm glad you understand the necessity for the OCs; I mean, it really wouldn't make sense for our boys to only interact with each other, right? Yup. And the Mello/L crush thing…? I was actually contemplating it! Dunno if/when/how it'll show up, but it's a definite possibility. And I hope the "Musings" explained my thoughts/feelings about the little nit-picky stuff…? I mean, it's like Harry Potter, right? (At least to me) The movie-Marauders? MEGA LAME! (At least Lupin. EW.) Sooo not my Marauders! Sorry if that's offensive in any way… forgive me…?**Ev: **And the tug-o'-war continues… heck, even intensifies! And rock for the double-reviewage. Two reviews makes me feel that much more loved! Thanks! **Micuko: **Thanks for taking the time to review, I really appreciate it. Glad you liked it and thanks so much for reading! **Kumakii: **Hey, thanks! I'm so glad you liked it, I feel flattered. Yeah. I'm pretty much an angst-addict. I was trying to explain it to my mom the other day and accidentally said it was like "emotional masochism" …she wants to send me to a psychiatrist. Ugh. Thanks again! And dude, you have better grammar than a lot of people who've been immersed in the language their whole lives. Rock! **Melii Aile: **Thanks so much for reading, and taking the time to review… it means so much! I'm glad you liked it! **MikuMonster: **Yessum! Glad to oblige! Thanks for reading, I'm so glad you liked it!**Trinity Spark: **Yay, I'm so glad you liked it! Woot! Also glad you approve of the characterization… I get so paranoid about Mello… still am, actually… gah! Thanks for the review, hope you like this chapter!

_Bwoff!_


	6. VI

_**Minion:** Eheh… yo. Sorry for the complete lack of updates. I've… been distracted? What with crazy work schedules, Christmas and all that entails, and getting completely caught up in beating _Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time_, I guess I… let time get away from me. …What? Don't give me that look! It was distracting! Link is totally incompetent, Navi is irritating, the Water Temple is a bitch, the Gerudo Fortress made me wanna stab something, Zelda is annoying and SOOOOOOOO not as good as Sheik, and Sheik is just… mmmmmmmmm. …There was epic ping pong, don't judge me. Yeah, so… sorry. Anyhoo, this chapter isn't as good as I anticipated. The content is… interesting, I hope, but L is so (bleep!)ing hard to write dialogue for while keeping in character!! AGH! HATE! …but love. Blast you, L._

_**Oh, and obvious FYI: **The title of the story has been changed. Used to be **Brighter than Sunshine**, but when I stopped to think about it, I decided it was muuuuuuuuch too fluffy and happy for Matt and Mello, whose angst is only surpassed by a meager few, so I chose the much angstier and more appropriate (for the end of the story) **Swans **after the song by Unkle Bob. So freaking sad, makes me wanna die. Yupyup._

_**Disclaimer: **Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.VI.**

Mihael was distracted. Whether it was the late morning light casting dancing shadows across the classroom wall… or Mr. Hughes' monotonous honey-smooth voice, which had already put approximately half the students to sleep… the blond simply could not bring himself to concentrate.

And honestly, it wasn't _that _big of a deal… he'd already read the chapter on the Black Plague in the text book, as long as he re-skimmed it for notes before the test, he should be fine.

"--what is called a 'pandemic,' probably originating in central Asia--"

_Taptaptaptap. _Mihael blinked blurrily, lifting his chin from where it had been cupped in his palm and twitching his head to the side as the pencil continued to thump pointedly against his back. _Tap. _

'_What the…?'_

_Taptaptap. Tap. Taptaptap. Taptaptap._

Understanding dawned very quickly as the eraser of Mail's pencil continued to thwack dully against the base of the blond's neck. A week ago, he and Mail had turned in a rather detailed paper on Morse Code as an extra credit assignment, and the redhead had adamantly learned the code left, right, and backwards simply out of fascination and a foresight for mischief.

He stared straight ahead very deliberately, blindly letting his pencil trace out a line of dots and dashes in the corner of his paper, before quickly translating.

_(. . . .) H (.) e (…. . …. ….) y. (. … . .) L (….) h (. …) a (. . .) s (… . . .) b (.) e (.) e (… .) n (. … …) w (. …) a (…)t (… . … .) c (. . . .) h (. .) i (… .) n (… … .) g (… . … …) y (… … …) o (. . …)u._

He frowned at this, his brows furrowing as Mail emphasized his point by drawing the eraser horizontally along Mihael's shoulder blades in the direction of the door. Discreetly glancing at the doorway from behind his bangs, he caught sight of the teenager hunching around the corner, a tiny smile quirking his lips as he observed the two boys. He bit his lip lightly.

The reclusive eccentric had almost literally disappeared immediately following Mihael's first glimpse of him upon his return from London. Well, maybe "disappeared" was not the proper word… everyone at Wammy's knew exactly where L spent his time while at the orphanage; the entirety of the basement had been converted into a well-furnished underground flat of sorts, entirely for his use. The detective rarely ascended anymore, and Mihael was nearly positive that L had been purposely avoiding the children… that L was, just maybe, hiding something from them.

_(. . … .) F (. … .) r (.) e (. …) a (… . …) k (. .) i (… .) n (… … .) g (… . … .) c (. … .) r (.) e (.) e (. … … .) p (… . … …) y (. … . .) l (. . …) u (. … .) r (… . …) k (.) e (. … .) r._

Mihael gave a short snort, his eyes flicking once more in the direction of the raven-haired man, only to find the hallway outside the classroom completely empty. He frowned in confusion, before tapping a slow, discreet tattoo on the edge of his desk with his own pencil.

_(. . . .) H (.) e (. … …) w (. …) a (. . .) s (. … …) w (. …) a (…) t (… . … .) c (. . . .) h (. .) i (… .) n (… … .) g (… . … …) y (… … …) o (. . …) u (…) t (… … …) o (… … …) o._

* * *

Mihael paused halfway into his room, arm still outstretched in the act of hanging his book bag on the door handle. A small, blank envelope sat in the center of his desk, perfectly framed in the square of fading golden sunlight filtering in through the window. He couldn't help glancing about the room suspiciously as he stepped forward to scoop up the intruding article. 

He turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully. Curiosity finally getting the best of him, he glanced over his shoulder at the door before he smoothly ripped the side open and shook out the paper.

_Mr. Keehl,_

_Please come to my quarters on the ground floor of the south wing at promptly one o'clock pm, tomorrow, Saturday, March 12th. There is business we must discuss._

_Thank you kindly,_

_Quillsh Wammy_

The blond blinked, taken aback by the succinct manner of the message--no flowery greetings, just straight to the point. It didn't seem like the warm, grandfatherly Mr. Wammy so much as L.

He licked his lips slowly, fighting back the tingles of excited curiosity amassing in his stomach as he slid the letter back into the envelope and tucked it into the top drawer.He sat down slowly, tapping his fingers against the edge of the desk in a mixture of confusion, dread, and gut-wrenching excitement.

L's trip to London, his secret return and reclusion, lurking in hallways and spying on classes, mysterious letters appearing out of nowhere--it was like some cheesy drug store mystery novel… and so L-like all at the same time.

'_What the hell is going on…?'_

* * *

Mihael rapped sharply on the door, tossing a short, cursory glance over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps echoing his own treck down the hallway behind him. He blinked in mild confusion as a somewhat familiar head of long auburn hair came bobbing into view, before his attention was stolen by the sound of the door opening. 

"Ah, Mr. Keehl… Miss Locke, please come in." Mr. Wammy stepped immediately aside, one arm swinging around elegantly to direct the children down the short hallway toward the warm, golden glow of lamplight puddling on the carpet before the only open door.

Casting surreptitious, puzzled glances at each other, the two slowly stepped around the elderly man as he moved to close the door, tiptoeing cautiously down the hall to peek around the doorframe of the indicated chamber. The room was simply furnished, centering around a coffee table framed by a couch on each side and a single, care-worn armchair at its head.

Catching sight of the room's only other occupants, Mihael stepped quickly through the door, making a beeline for the couch across from where Mail and River were already sitting--the former glancing about the room with a sort of nervous fascination, the latter seemingly unfazed and completely captivated by his robot action figure.

"Mihael!" Mail exclaimed upon catching sight of the blond, far less shocked than the other boy felt he should be at this strange turn of events, "Autumn… hi. You… you guys got notes from Mr. Wammy, too, then?"

Mihael opened his mouth to reply, a confused 'What the hell is going on?' building in his throat, when the door behind them closed with a click and he jumped, spinning to glance around at the three figures who had just joined them. Wait. What? What was going on…? Everything was moving so fast….

"Autumn, Mihael," the newly-arrived L said softly, shuffling in their direction, "please have a seat. Jessamine--" The dark-haired boy on Mr. Wammy's other side jumped slightly at being addressed, "please." He gestured toward the couch across from Mail and Nate before languidly folding himself into the armchair and waiting, unblinking, for the children to settle themselves as well.

Mihael fidgeted uncomfortably, squirming his way into the farthest corner of the couch away from Autumn and Jessamine as L placidly took the cup of tea Mr. Wammy had been holding out to him. The teenager took his time, meticulously dropping nine sugar cubes, one by one, into the cup before stirring it a total of eighteen times--nine clockwise, nine counterclockwise--as his audience stared at him in silent speculation.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mihael caught Mail's curious cerulean gaze darting from L's hunched figure, to the still bowed silvery head beside him, across to his own intent, alert profile. He ignored the redhead as L took a single, noisy sip before setting his tea down and looking up.

"You're all wondering why you're here," he said simply; it was not a question. He left several seconds open for some of the children to get another round of uncomfortable squirming in, before reaching blindly behind him, his hand outstretched for an instant before Mr. Wammy placed a small stack of paper-clipped files in his expectant palm.

Mihael's brows furrowed and he allowed himself to finally cast that quick glance at Mail, their gazes locking questioningly for a moment before each quickly riveted their attention back on the man before them.

"_River, Nate_," he began to read from the top packet, "_Birthday: August 24, 1991. Age: eight. Orphaned: age five. IQ of: 202. Shows particular proficiencies in: mathematics, problem-solving, profiling. Comments: 'Has never received a grade of less than 100 percent.'"_ He glanced quickly through the next several pages of the packet--presumably additional observations recorded over the time Nate had spent at Wammy's, before setting it aside and plucking the next up by its corner. "_Keehl, Mihael. Birthday: December 13, 1989. Age: ten. Orphaned: age nine. IQ of: 199. Shows particular proficiencies in: psychology, mathematics, research. Comments: 'Aggressive; consistently number one of the class.'"_

Mihael scowled, sinking back into his seat as L read, aloud, his shortcomings in comparison to River.

"_Jeevas, Mail. Birthday: February 1, 1990. Age: ten. Orphaned: age four. IQ of: 195. Shows particular proficiencies in: computer science, technology, mechanics. Comments: 'Idle; Not fulfilling his potential.'"_ The next packet was retrieved, along with the teacup. _"Locke, Autumn. Birthday: March 7, 1988. Age: eleven. Orphaned: age six. IQ of: 189. Shows particular proficiencies in: sociology, research, observation. Comments: 'Top of the class.' …Sharett, Jessamine. Birthday: July 29, 1987. Age: eleven. Orphaned: age seven. IQ of: 184. Shows particular proficiencies in: mathematics, computer science. Comments: 'Consistent superior marks.'" (1)_

L allowed all of the files to fall to the table before him, silently raising his piercing gaze to the small group of huddled children. All was quiet for a pregnant moment as Mr. Wammy appeared with a second tray--this one complete with a plate of chocolate chip cookies, glasses, and a pitcher of milk--and set it in the middle of the table with a soft _clunk, _before retreating back into a corner of the room near the door.

"Impressive résumés, all, and that was only a fraction of the first page in each," L murmured quietly. He paused for a long moment, humming thoughtfully around a large bite of cookie as his beetle-black, soul-piercing stare settled on Mail for a moment. "As I am sure most of you may have guessed," he continued abruptly, "I recently spent several weeks in London working to solve the Winchester serial murders."

A not-so-subtle excited glance passed between several of the seated children, followed by a triumphant glare from Mihael in Nate's direction.

"However," L continued when he was sure he had everyone's attention once more, "this was not my first case." He cast a critical glance over the rapt children. "For the past year and a half, I have been working in secret to help Interpol bring several of its more notorious unclosed cases to conclusion."

Mail blinked, feeling slightly overwhelmed. He glanced across the table at Mihael--the blond had been correct in his deductions, but neither of them had realized how much bigger than a simple murder case it had really been. And why was L bringing all of them into it…? He had a bad feeling about all of this. Slowly, he shifted toward Nate, his best friend's physical presence giving him comfort enough to focus back on L.

Almost as though reading the redhead's thoughts, the detective continued. "However," he said, idly picking at a wrinkle in his well-worn jeans, "my identity was kept secret not only from the public and media, but from the members of Interpol, themselves. As I am sure you have come to realize, it is a common preconception that knowledge comes only with age, and, in general, humans often struggle with the notion that one younger than themselves may, in any way, be more intelligent." His mouth curved into a wry, half smile as he spoke, his thumb automatically raising to press thoughtfully against his bottom lip. "Thus, Mr. Wammy and I agreed that it would be in everyone's best interest if I were to refrain from direct contact. To them, _L_ is no more than a distorted voice coming from a computer."

There was a short, awed pause as the children soaked this information in, fidgeting slightly--there was still so much left unexplained.

"Why…" It was almost comical to see the group huddled on the couches flinch in shock as Jessamine broke the silence. The brunet, himself, winced lightly as his voice cracked through the pregnant air like a gunshot, but he forged on bravely. "Why are you telling us this? If you're trying to keep your identity secret, won't we just be liabilities?"

The corner of L's mouth twitched in an approving smile as several heads nodded in questioning agreement. "I am telling you this," he said casually, scratching the tip of his chin, "because you are the best candidates for what I have in mind. I am offering you the opportunity to study criminal justice."

Mihael's jade green eyes widened to roughly the size of the saucer in L's hand in disbelieving excitement, while the rest of the children sat, staring, open-mouthed, at the man calmly taking in their reactions to his revelation--even Nate's stone-faced façade cracked ever-so minutely at the news of this opportunity.

L set down his tea, his hands folding elegantly over his knees as he looked at them, jet-black eyes solemn. "This is not something to be rushed into, though," he said gently, his gaze meeting Mihael's pointedly, "If you were to choose it, the life before you will not be easy, nor glamorous. The person you are now must be forgotten." He nibbled at the tip of his thumb as he met each of their wide-eyed stares in turn. "Mail Jeevas, Nate River, Jessamine Sharett, Autumn Locke, and Mihael Keehl would all be erased. There could be no record of you--your birth, true names… faces. You would be ghosts, nothing more than an alias to those who even know of your existence at all."

A heavy silence settled over them as L's slow, quiet voice ceased, leaving them to their own thoughts on the subject.

"Why us?" the question was simple, thrown at L through the dense quiet.

He glanced over at Mihael, who had pulled his feet up to rest on the couch cushion after he spoke--almost an imitation of his own position--scrawny arms wrapped around his legs for some sort of comfort. "Because I have watched you… all of you. And because I have watched men and women throughout the world who call themselves criminal investigators. It is not enough--_they _are not enough. Society lives in the shadows of it's wrongdoings, and there are not enough of those who would step forward and put a stop to it. With proper training, I know you would." He surveyed them with a cursory glance, taking in the fear, determination, and excitement written on each face in turn. "I don't ask that you make this decision immediately. I will give you a week to think about it--observe your daily life, and ask yourself if this," he gestured to himself emphatically, "is the future that you want. If you decide to continue, please return here in exactly one week: next Saturday, the 19th, at one o'clock."

Without another word, the raven-haired man unfolded from his chair and hunched out of the room, leaving his audience reeling in the abruptness of his departure.

* * *

"It's like the _Men in Black _or something!" Mail whispered conspiratorially as he and Mihael ducked studiously over the thick textbook, jotting down notes for their research project on the East-West Schism during the Crusades. The blond snorted, casting a bemused emerald glance his way before burying his nose in the book once more. "I wonder if he's gonna burn off our fingerprints…" the redhead mused thoughtfully. 

Beside him, Mihael sat up with a triumphant flourish, dropping his pencil onto his notebook and glancing around to see if anyone else's notes were as neat or long as his own. When it proved impossible to see the papers of the entire class--as they were scattered about the library--he turned back to Mail. "I think the furthest he would go would be to delete our official records," he replied finally, "There's not much else he _could _do."

Mail sighed in disappointment, scratching his temple with the tip of his eraser. "D'you think we'd get cool aliases?" he inquired hopefully.

The other boy arched a haughty eyebrow. "Is that what you're basing your decision on?" he asked scathingly.

"Well, no, but--"

"This isn't one of your video games, Mail. Why do you think L was telling us all how terrible it's gonna be? Why do you think he keeps his face a secret? You really believe that bull about it just being prejudice? Yeah, right! It's because it's _dangerous_." He leaned over the table, getting right in Mail's face with a sneer. "If you became a detective, criminals would _hate_ you. They'd be scared of you and they'd hate you and they'd try to _kill_ you." Mail's sapphire eyes widened. "They'll hunt you down and murder you in cold blood, and no one will save you, 'cause no one else knows you exist. And you _won't_ respawn. It's real-life and you'll be dead and _no one _will care."

Mail gulped, quickly hunching over his notebook in an attempt to hide how much Mihael's words had rattled him.

"S-so," he cleared his throat, trying to hold back the tremors skating up and down his spine, "you gonna do it?"

The older boy leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, balancing himself expertly on the back legs. "Yeah."

* * *

Mihael hid the small shock of surprise he felt when he re-entered Mr. Wammy's office the following Saturday to see Mail seated next to Nate in almost the exact same position as the week previous. He'd been almost positive that his mini-rant in the Library had scared the redhead off. 

A small tingle of pride swelled at the knowledge that Mail was braver and more stubborn than he seemed at first glance, accompanied by warm gratitude welling in his stomach--he hadn't really wanted to face the trials L had in store without his best friend.

Mail glanced up as the blond took the seat across from him, sinking down next to Jessamine, and their gazes locked. He beamed warmly at the older boy, giving him a discreet thumbs-up from where his hands were resting in his lap. Mihael nodded slightly, granting a small grin of his own in return as L once more shuffled into the room.

The detective rested his hands on the back of his armchair, surveying the group with a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I am glad to see the five of you again," he greeted, before rounding to collapse into the chair and immediately pouncing on the bowl of strawberries on the coffee table, "Let us begin."

**To be continued.**

_(1) Note: I've changed their IQs. I'd done a meagre bit of research on IQ scores when I first wrote the section, but someone reviewed saying that their scores were probably much higher than that. So I was like, "Nuh-uh! Really? Wow, then what's the highest recorded IQ score...?" I looked it up, and I have been proven wrong. So I changed it! Yup. _

_Sorry it's lame… and short… and lame. I dunno why I suck so much. (Pouts) I can semi-confidently promise that it will get better relatively soon!_

_Thanks for reading... PLEASE REVIEW, YES!?_

_Review'd!_

**Esoteric Memories: **Ominous clouds, indeed! Man, you just wait and _see_ what I have cooked up. Heheh. And how terrifying would Matt in charge of the world's satellites be…? Pretty friggin' terrifying, I tell you. As usual, thanks for the review and hope you tolerated the chapter decently! **AXENATOR: **Wow, I'm really flattered to hear that, thank you! L is such a bitch to write. I learned that the hard way this chapter. Grrrrr! I hope my OCs are still decent! Anyhoo, thanks so much for reading. And huzzah for _House!_**Dawn-at-Midnight: **Don't worry, it sounds like our Mary Sue rants are very similar. Gah. I'm glad you understand my Matt 'n' Mello dynamic logic… and Near, well… he's necessary to the story and will add to the drama quite nicely. Especially in part two. Hmmm. (Innocent look) As always, thanks so much for the review, I love and look forward to them. Hope you were able to muddle through this chapter relatively unscathed.**Meli Aile: **Long live red-headed, big Matts and green-eyed Mellos! One shouldn't be allowed to call themselves a Death Note fan without reading the manga. Just the anime? Ew! They butt-raped Mello and Matt! …no matter how much I love anime!L and anime!Light… they ruined my other OTP. (sobs) Anyhoo, thanks for the review, glad you liked it, hope this one was half-way decent! **aya: **LOVE chess. A life without chess would be… no life at all. I'm glad I could please! Hope you like this one, too… I hate it. Blegh. **Solo Maxwell-Yamato: **I'm so glad you understand! I can't picture them any other way… it would just… deplete the love for the characters AND pairing. (Pout) Thanks for appreciating the OCs… dunno how the story would go without 'em. Poor MattyMattMatt and his imminent choosing…. Thanks for reading! **Ev: **PMSing!Mello is love! lol. And ohhhh the hooker boots. I got a pair of boots for Christmas (they're awesome and Mello-like) and was standing next to my Abi!Matt and she glanced over and was all, "Uh… dude? Why are you as tall as me?" And we were like "le gasp! That's how Mello's considered taller!" Haha. It's so true. Thanks for reviewing, always love your reviews! (Hugs) **youreverlastinglight:**Brilliant. Love that song for that scene. I'm not sure how you'll cook one up this chapter… since it was all so droll and whatnot. Hmm. Thanks for readin'!**Aclatis: **…I'm lame, I know. (hangs head in shame) This chapter is lame. But soon! "I have to go… play Halo and be… manly." **momijikk:**Wow, thank you so much for taking the time to review each chapter! I appreciate your feedback and thoughts on each one so much! I hope you continue to like it… thank you, thank you! **the-beginning-of-the-end: **Er… I'm sooooo sorry I failed at the updating! Feel free to seek revenge in any way you see fit. I hope you like this chapter… it's not good enough for the wait it got, but hopefully it'll do…. Thanks so much for the review! **Trinity Spark: **Man, I don't know how anyone but Matty could be able to handle those two. Hmm. And OMG L, indeed! Look at all the crap he gets in this chapter! lawl. Thanks for the review… and don't worry about it being late. I mean… look how later the freaking _chapter_was! Heheh….

_Bwoff, peeps!_


	7. VII

_**Author's Note:**__ Filler chapter'd! Ahem. On another note: I'm _dying_. My roommate and I have been confined to the couch... whiney, sniffle-y, cough-y, ache-y, and marathoning ANTM for days. Therefore, if this chapter seems incoherent, disjointed, or in anyway_bad... _just__ semi-blame the flu. So... yeah, I'm sorry for the lack of updates... though I'm pretty sure writer's block had a little somethin' to do with that, I really have no excuse. But I'm going to my mum's this weekend for a little R&R, so I'll try to get the next one out even faster than normal! Blegh. Anyhoo, as previously stated this is a hardcore filler chapter, basically spanning from the end of chapter six to before Mello's twelfth birthday, which will start off the next chapter. I s'pose it can kinda be taken as snapshots of daily life and of course the usual Mello!drama that occurs at Wammy's. Boring... but don't worry. Chapter eight has enough action, drama, fluffy feelings, and angst to more than make up for the drastic lack of it previously. Mello's birthdays are like Buffy's... he should just think about not celebrating them._

_**Disclaimer: **__Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.VII.**

L's immediate priority was the complete erasure of his new protégés' identities.

The first step, and the last chance they were given to change their minds, was removing the children from the Wammy's House adoption list.

It was easy enough, with a small hiccough in the form of Abigail Locke... who adamantly insisted that if her twin sister was taken off, then she should also be removed, unwilling to be separated from her only family. L was surprisingly understanding about the whole mess, and obligingly deleted her name as well, after solemnly swearing her to the secrecy of anything that she might hear or stumble across throughout the duration of Autumn's training.

Second, and, incidentally, his first unauthorized foray into official government databases, was to delete any and all files that were in any way connected to their names, descriptions, whereabouts—existence in general, really.

This process garnered particular fascination in a certain redheaded ten-year-old, and so, once Mr. Wammy's and Roger's not-quite-heartfelt-enough scoldings were over and done with, Mail was allowed the privilege of curling up, wide-eyed, on the couch cushion at L's side as the detective maneuvered his way past encryptions and firewalls with no small amount of finesse. Mail was enthralled.

Third, and the ironic appearance of a rather bizarre sense of humor on L's part, was the giving of aliases.

Gathering his wards around him in the midst of pre-departure chaos, L retrieved a large duffel from Mr. Wammy on his way out the door, and calmly dug into the bag as a shudder of anticipation ran through the group in front of him. When he handed each child a laptop, there were mixed reactions throughout the group, ranging from Mail's veritable squeal of excitement to Mihael's small grimace of near-disappointment.

"_Each laptop is the exclusive property of the person I gave it to, and it would be in everyone's best interest if you kept their existence a secret, if at all possible. Each one has been equipped with a wireless internet connection and you all have been given an email address, which you can only contact each other, myself, and Mr. Wammy through. Each computer is password protected; your password is on a note attached to the screen. Please be sure to destroy it after you have memorized the code."_ He graced them with a miniscule smile, before shuffling out to the car.

Mihael led the pack to Mr. Wammy's office, which had become their unofficial classroom and was the only place in the orphanage with complete privacy from the other children. Nate branched off near his and Mail's room, but the redhead, as Mihael felt a flutter of happiness to notice, kept steadfast to the blond boy's side with barely more than a glance at River as he disappeared. Closing and locking the door, Mihael grinned excitedly at the others, and plopped immediately onto the floor, opening the laptop, and snatching up the sticky note anxiously.

"'_Username: Mello,_'" Mihael muttered in confusion, though having the good sense to keep the short sequence of numbers after the word "password" to himself. He glanced up, meeting the three quizzical faces staring back at him. "_An alias... Our username is our alias..._" he whispered slowly.

"'_Matt.'"_

"_'Justin.'"_

"_'Anya.'"_

"Man,_ L is friggin' weird_," Mail grouched, pursing his lips as he squinted at his own sticky note.

"_Why'd you guys get normal names? And what the hell kinda name is 'Mello,' anyway?"_

"_It_ is _rather odd, as you're not mellow at all."_

"_Shove it, Locke."_

"_Aw, cheer up. He coulda called you '_Marsh_mello.' Count your blessings."_

"_Oh, bugger off, _Matt._"_ Mihael growled, before glaring at Jessamine as though daring him to take a jab at him as well.

"_Well, if it makes you feel better, Mihael..._" the older boy replied peacefully, "_my actual name is apparently 'Justice,' but he figured that it would draw attention, so he shortened it." _Both Mihael and Mail cocked their heads in his direction with a pitying grimace._"Don't look at _me!_ It's in a note after the username!"_

"_Same here, Jessamine. 'Anya's' short for 'Anonymous.'"_

The two shared a displeased scowl as the younger boys across from them burst into a gale of hysterical laughter. Mihael chortled softly for a moment, poking Mail's shoulder and holding out his hand expectantly. Almost as though he had read the blond's mind, Mail immediately dug into his pocket, producing a bright red lighter.

"_Man, I wonder what River's name is, then?" _Mihael mused as the slip of paper went up in flames.

"_L is _so _friggin' weird,"_Mail reemphasized, shaking his head with a small, amused grin as he snatched his lighter back.

When L returned from France, a memo was sent out to the staff of Wammy's, informing teachers and caretakers alike of the new names, and everything seemed to be moving along quite swimmingly.

Classes began once more after a short break in the spring, and Mr. Hughes adamantly refused to address Mello and Matt by their newly acquired aliases. The first time he called Matt "Mr. Jeevas," the redhead responded immediately, before a pointed punch to the shoulder from Mello made him doubletake, and he simply reminded the elderly teacher that he didn't go by that name and he'd thank him kindly to remember it the next time. Mello made a very obvious point of crossing his arms and ignoring the question asked when he was referred to as "Mihael." He was promptly sent to the caretakers' office for being disrespectful. Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Hughes had replaced him in the chair before Roger's desk, joined almost immediately by Mr. Wammy (who they were now instructed to address as "Watari,"), and the next day he looked as though he had swallowed an entire bottle of vinegar every time he said the word "Mello" or "Matt."

He didn't return to Wammy's the following semester, and no other teacher ever kicked up a fuss about "ridiculous nicknames" again.

* * *

The orphanage soon settled into a routine of sorts. After a while, the other children stopped caring why they suddenly had different names, stopped asking where they disappeared to for hours at a time; everything settled back into as normal an existence as it could. The days began to blur after that, time rushing by in a strict schedule of classes, homework, L, and what little free time they had. 

As could only be expected, the war Mello had proclaimed on the small, quiet boy everyone now referred to as "Near" grew all the more heated and intense. As Near's grades continued to easily surpass his rival's, as L took more and more notice of the younger boy, Mello found himself focusing on his studies nearly every waking moment, sometimes forgetting and often refusing to take breaks even for food or rest—driving himself till he collapsed, frequently spending the majority of the weekend simply passed out on top of his bed, too exhausted even to get under the covers. As he grew thinner, so did his temper. The other orphans were soon going out of their way to avoid him, and if he was spotted anywhere in the vicinity of Near apart from around L—who seemed to be blessed with the miraculous ability to call a very feeble truce between the two—the room was very efficiently and immediately cleared of children, and a caretaker ofter called.

Matt, however hard he tried, could not seem to find a balance between the two. It is terribly difficult for one's best friends to despise each other so. Though the animosity had very clearly begun with Mello, it soon became clear that Near took more than a little pleasure in silently taunting the other boy with his superiority. Matt had spent countless hours talking at one or the other's non-responsive backs, begging, pleading for them to at least _attempt _to get along... for his sake, if nothing else. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The rivalry had become too ingrained, had infiltrated every aspect of their lives.

Finally, after months of nothing, Matt gave up, bitterly accepting that he would have to precariously juggle the two most important people in his life and pray to God that Mello wouldn't snap one day and actually murder the other boy.

* * *

On the eleventh of August, Mello was startled out of a distracted daze in Watari's sitting room to find L quirking a disapproving eyebrow in his direction, while the other children stared at him, shocked and questioning at his inattentiveness. Near, the slimey little bugger, threw him the smallest of smug smirks as a blush burned its way across his cheeks. 

"_Would you care to share what you find so much more fascinating than the twisted mind of Ed Gein, Mello?" _L murmured in a deceptively kind voice, "_I'm sure that we all could learn from something so important."_

Mello swallowed, feeling rather certain that the response, '_I found the movements of your graceful fingers as you talk more fascinating than the twisted mind of Ed Gein, Mr. L, sir,' _would not garner the most favorable of responses. So he simply shook his head and whispered an embarrassed, "_No, L, I'm sorry. Please continue."_

It took about another week for him to finally accept the fact that he had the basic equivalent of a schoolgirl-crush on L, having found himself so easily distracted by the detective's quiet, gentle baritone... the glint of the setting sun off of unkempt sable hair... the slightest flash of excitement in jet-black eyes... He threw a rather impressive fit upon his realization that he had a crush on a_ man, _taking several of Matt's secret "special occasion" cherry bombs to the stash of action figures under Near's bed. Which ultimately failed to soothe his irritation anyway, in that the exploit not only earned him four detentions—one for each ruined toy—but also that Matt refused to talk to him for a full two days for getting his fireworks confiscated.

He fumed his way through the detentions and proceeded to avoid L like the plague outside of his lectures for several weeks. It _would _go away. Any emotion can be stifled. He was _not _gay. He liked _girls!_ Matt was all nervous giggles the day Mello drug him into his room and produced a rather rumpled, careworn, and very cover-less girly mag, which they poured over for less than fifteen minutes before carefully disposing of it, completely unsatisfied and more than a little perturbed.

Thankfully, his crush was relatively short-lived. He was quite relieved to find that the part of L that had been most attractive was, in fact, the detective's alarmingly brilliant mind. And after all, brilliance isn't determined by gender. L slipped elegantly back into the part of role model, and the excited spring quickly returned to Mello's step when he walked down to Watari's quarters for a lesson.

* * *

L was gone for most of November of that year, and it wasn't until he returned that Mello learned that he'd gone to Russia. There had been a string of disappearances in Moscow over the past month, and the federation had called the mysterious and highly effective detective L in to put a swift and silent end to the case. His investigation had run far more smoothly than any had even dared to hope for, and within the first three weeks, the culprit had not only been caught, but had also confessed his guilt to the crime. 

On the thirteenth of December, Mello's eleventh birthday, L appeared outside the boy's room, with an expensive imported bar of high-quality Swiss chocolate, and a cardboard box tucked beneath one arm. Perched on the edge of Mello's desk chair, he silently handed over the box, giving a nod to open it at he boy's questioning gaze.

The box had three items buried among the balled up pieces of newspaper, all of which Mello gaped at with wide-eyed recognition. A rosary, its prayer beads glinting blood-red in the light of the desk lamp; a pair of careworn, soft black leather gloves; a framed photograph of a large, severe-looking man with his pretty wisp of a wife smiling softly down at the bundle of blankets nestled in her arms. Mello traced his mother's face with a tentative fingertip, his other hand automatically tangling itself in the rosary.

"_This was all that I could find of the Keehls," _L said quietly, gazing about the room in an absent manner to give the boy a moment unobserved with his memories, _"As I am sure you are aware, that was a chapter in St. Petersburg's history that the federation would rather forget." _He smiled sympathetically. _"However, if you _do_ choose to keep the photo, I must insist that you keep it well hidden."_

Mello nodded numbly, as he silently slipped his mother's rosary around his neck. L gnawed absently on the tip of his thumb as he observed the bowed head of golden hair. The boy truly fascinated him sometimes—resilient, bold, ruthless, calculating, and brilliant, it was easy to overlook the fact that he was still a young boy that had probably never really come to terms with his parents' untimely deaths.

When no further words were spoken, he slid quietly to his feet, one hand resting comfortingly on a stiff shoulder for a moment before he made his way to the door to leave the boy in peace.

* * *

L's first official evaluation of their progress took place in January. The results were all as expected. Near scored nothing less than perfect, Mello nipping angrily behind by a single point. Anya and Justin both received top marks. And Matt had refused to do any studies whatsoever because Roger and Watari had bought a replacement _Nintendo 64_ (after the original perished in a tragic accident) as an orphanage Christmas gift, and he was hellbent on being the first to beat all five of the new games they included--L wasn't pleased... though he couldn't say that he was surprised.

* * *

In April, Matt caught the stomach flu, though no one could decide exactly _how,_ as there was not a single other case reported within the orphanage. After he sprinted out of class in the middle of a lecture with little more warning than a, _"Miss Boulter...? I think I'm gonna--" _and a grimace, he was immediately quarantined to the infirmary with his own assigned bucket (just in case), so as to keep the sickness from spreading throughout the entire population of orphans, and no one was allowed to visit him save for the nurse and Roger. Mello, of course, thought this rule was complete bullocks and took it upon himself to nick the redhead's handheld and favorite game out of his room and sneak it in to him that night. 

Matt was asleep when Mello snuck around the door, not bothering to close it for fear of it creaking and/or causing any other incriminating noises. He stopped just inside the room, taking in Matt's pale, sweat-soaked face where it lay bathed in moonlight from the window above the bed. The boy's crimson bangs were plastered to his forehead, and Mello had the strangest urge to smooth the hair back behind his ears. He'd been intending to get at least a few good-natured taunts about the illness in, but now, with Matt laid out before him, exhausted and miserable, he just couldn't find the heart to do it.

Mello swallowed, ghosting forward silently to lay the games on the bedside table next to a glass, a washcloth, and a pitcher of cool water. He stood over Matt for a moment, watching the younger boy toss in his sleep, his brow furrowing as a quiet whimper wormed its way past his lips.

The redhead's temperature, when he shoved the damp bangs aside to feel his forehead, was rather high—not life threatening, but likely very uncomfortable. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming, he snatched up the washcloth and plunged it into the pitcher, letting it soak a bit before ringing it out and gently smoothing it out across his friend's brow and eyelids. Matt moaned at the sensation, though it came off as a relatively pleased noise, and writhed a bit in his sleep.

Mello grinned fondly at the other boy, pulling the covers up over his chest and giving him a gentle, affectionate poke in the side of the head before turning to slip back out the door. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to jump and shriek at the sight of Near standing in the doorway, eyeing him with cold, calculating disdain, one finger curling in wild platinum hair.

"_What the hell is wrong with you, sneaking up on people like that?" _he hissed, glaring daggers at the other boy.

Near didn't reply for a moment, his pewter gaze sliding past Mello's enraged form to the prostrate figure on the bed behind him. His glance roved over the washcloth and adjusted sheets, before scanning to the Gameboy at the bedside. A slight spark of amusement was in his eyes as he met Mello's irrate stare.

"_I didn't realize that you were quite so in love with Matt, Mello,"_ he murmured quietly, watching the blond go deathly still at his words, eyes narrowing in a mixture of rage and confusion, _"Perhaps I should be keeping my guard on that front more than academically, now? Since there is less than a 3.7 percent chance of your ever surpassing my grades."_

Mello grit his teeth, fuming as he spoke, before surging forward to slam his palm against the wall beside that silvery head, bringing himself nose to nose with his rival. They stared each other in the eye, steel and emerald, ice and fire, before the sound of Matt shifting and murmuring caught their attention. Mello jumped back, glancing over his shoulder as the redhead simply rolled onto his side, before turning back to Near.

"_Fuck you," _he hissed, glaring down his nose at the other boy, baring his teeth for a second before sweeping past him out of the room.

He collapsed against the wall outside the door in an angry huff, banging his head back against the wallpaper in frustration.

_'In love with Matt?' _he thought, 'Please. _Near's just jealous 'cause he's starting to like me more.' _He swallowed, closing his eyes and repeating it several times. '_Just jealous. I'm not in love with Matt. Just my friend. Not in love...' _

**To be continued.**

_**Oh. Dear. GOD. **(Headdesk) I am _so _sorry. This is so much shorter than my usual chapters. And it's disjointed and crap and... I'M SOOOOOO SORRY! I got a record amount of reviews last chapter, and how do I repay you? With crap! I'm sorry! I swear, I had the **worst **writer's block. I hadn't written for almost a month and I just wanted to get to chapter eight and start all the drama and... dear god, I'm so ashamed of myself, I don't know how I'm even managing to convince myself that this is worthy of posting... but I really want to move on. Please don't lose faith just 'cause of _this _shite. Everything will get better after the next chapter, I solemnly swear. Please forgive me. (Whimper)_

_Reviews_

**camikaza:** Oh, thanks so much for reading. I'm sorry you were waiting all excitedly for _this. _Ew. But, yeah. Zelda? Navi? Pfft. There was an irrational hatred from the get-go. Haha! I hope you muddled your way through this chapter! Thanks for the review! **Solo Maxwell-Yamato: **It really doesn't make much sense, does it? I s'pose even five is a bit of a small number... but I think L would want only the best, and honestly? I'm lazy. I don't wanna write more than a few OCs, they'd start to get annoying. lol. Thanks fer readin', hope this chapter didn't kill your brain or anything (I think it may have murdered mine, blegh). t**he-beginning-of-the-end':** Yay L! I love that guy. Thanks for reading! Thanks for reviewing! Thanks for putting up with me in general! **Ev:** I _am _alive! ...Barely. Kinda dying now. Friggin' flu (grumble)... it took me _out. _I know, they're so young, I feel so bad, especially knowing that only two of them will ever _really _run with it. Saaad. I'm sorry this update is THE suck. It'll be better next time. Promise. Merry Belated Christmas/Happy New Year and Happy early Matt!birthday! Oh, saintly day to have brought that boy into existence... **momijikk:** I'm glad L's believable, I was really worried. Aliases all the way, wooooot! Thanks for the review and sorry you waited for a crappy chapter. I'll make up for it next time. **aya: ...**I kinda hate everything I write... or draw... or really do in general. I dunno. 's a thing. lol, sorry I made your heart sink with the "to be continued." Maybe I should think of something more upbeat and happy to say at the end of chapters... hmm... anyhoo, thanks for the review, as usual! **Captnjeje:** WOW. Thank you for the great compliment. I'm so ridiculously flattered, thank you so much! I'm soooo sorry you thought it was that good and I just unloaded that pile of crap on you! Don't give up on it, though!!** Aclatis: **Hey, are you alive? Um, yeah. I was gonna dedicate this chapter to you, but it sucks, so I won't. Do you want the next chapter, or a oneshot as an additional b-day present? I have ideas... **AXENATOR: **LOL! Poor Jessamine! I love his name so much... well, at least making fun of it. Thanks for the long review, it made me laugh. I love stream-of-consciousness-like stuff. That's probably why I love reviews so much. Anyhoo, I hope you were able to force your way through this chapter. Sorry it sucked. **Esoteric Memories: **Oh, don't worry. You'll be force-fed creepy nastiness _galore _starting next chapter. Sorry this one was so lame. It'll get better. And M&M in MIB suits...? YUM! **Hair-Noodles:** lol! I love Matty as a redhead, though every once in a while he's an endearing brunet. Sorry this was long pending and the literal suck. Next chapter'll be better... promise! Thanks for the review!** WisdomSora11:** Mello's a very in-your-face type cute, it's true! Thanks for reading! Sorry to keep you waiting! s**tarapplek: **Thanks! I hope you continue to enjoy it! ...somehow. Heh. Sorry this chapter sucked! **mustypaperback:** Pending Matt!birthday! WOOT! And ew, that's so sad. Poor Matt. Though there's enough fan-love to more than make up for it. I can't believe I'm twisting your characters! Thanks for the compliment! And don't worry, I love long reviews, they always keep me very entertained. I'm so sorry that this chapter sucked so bad. It'll get better immediately. Pinky promise! **youreverlastinglight: **I got worried I wasn't gonna have a song for the last chapter! lol. But the wait was worth it, I like the choice. Good luck on your Zelda ventures if you so choose to re-start them! **Tox:** I'm... er... gonna use that name, your other one's looooooong. lol. I'm so glad you like it (and the vid) I hope it still stay entertaining after the heap of crap I just dumped on you all. (Facepalm) Yeah, Sheik is Zelda. But I must separate them in my mind due to intense hatred for Zelda and a ridiculous amount of love for Sheik. Le sigh. Thanks for the review! **Melii Aile: **As you see, Matt and Mello have arrived in all their alias'd glory! There's a... bit of fluffy feelings (though vehemently denied) in the end of this chapter... does that count? So sorry it sucks! Thanks for the review! **Constance: **Thank you so much for the review, I really appreciate it!

...wow.

_Bwoff...?_


	8. VIII

_**theminion's note: **__Okay, I caved. I rewrote the chapter. Gah. It's… not as good as the original… but I honestly can't say when I'm finally going to get around to having my computer fixed, and I figured I shouldn't punish you for my own incompetence. Thus, here you go. Hope you enjoy._

_**Also: **__I just read _Another Note. _Two things. One, I loooooooooooooove L. The ending was the most adorable thing in the world. Two, even though many things involved in this story have now been refuted (i.e. the kids knowing each others' names, and there being L wannabes long before Mello, Near, and Matt) I'm still going to keep this the way it was/is. Since _Another Note _wasn't written by Ohba herself, I kinda think of it as a… glorified fanfiction. Yeah, it got published and publicly acknowledged by the creators… but I think it can still basically be considered a fanfic, thus, this one is still plausible. Even if I do have to call it AU, now. But whatev. It'll continue as planned, 'kay? 'Kay! Woot. Moving on!_

**.VIII.**

Matt snatched up his bookbag, swinging it over his shoulder excitedly as he glanced around at Mello, grinning conspiratorially. The blond gave him a half-hearted smirk in return, slowly stuffing the test he'd just gotten back into the bottom of his bag.

"Matt, may I have a word, please?"

The boys shared a short, confused glance, before Matt waved for Mello to go on without him and walked up the aisle to Ms. Bourgh's desk at the front of the room. He watched Mello's honey blond hair disappear around the corner of the doorway as he rocked back on the balls of his feet, waiting impatiently as Ms. Bourgh neatly arranged a stack of papers in the top drawer of her desk.

"Matt," she finally said, taking off her reading glasses and setting them on the desk before resting her chin in her hand, "I wanted to talk to you about your grades."

The redhead gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, but she pointedly ignored him. "You do realize that you have an overall score of 67 percent, don't you, Matt?"

"Yeah," he replied sharply, fidgeting slightly.

"Why?" She sighed, pressing a stray strand of light brown hair back behind her ear. "Matt, it's obvious, to anyone who cares enough to look, that you are one of the most intelligent children at Wammy's. But your class work just doesn't reflect this. You've failed two out of your last three exams, and you haven't turned in a homework assignment—" She glanced down at a small notebook laying open by her elbow. "—since nearly the start of term. Why is this? Matt, if you would just _apply_ yourself—"

"Yeah, yeah," Matt cut her off, scratching his head in a bored fashion, "If I'd just give a _little _effort, studied a bit, got my head out of the clouds… I'd be right up there with Mel at the top of the class. No offense, miss, but if every teacher I've ever had has given me this lecture, what makes you think _you're_ going to get anywhere with it?"

She scowled slightly, and Matt could have sworn he saw her eye twitch. "Matt," she said sternly, "Your past teachers may have given you leniency, since L's blatant favoritism seems to hold far more sway than it should in this establishment, but I warn you now, you will find _I_ won't go easy on you just because L and Mr. Wammy have deemed you superior to your peers."

Matt stared, wide-eyed, as she leaned down to drag a large manila folder out of the bottom drawer of her desk. No teacher had ever dared bring up L in their lectures before—not since Mr. Hughes, at least. She sat up, dropping the stack of papers she had retrieved onto the desk with a dull thump.

"Whether you want it or not, I am here for _your _education, and I fully intend for you to get it. So, you are going to complete every homework assignment that you have so far failed to hand in, starting right now, _and_ you will not be leaving until you have completed them all." She cocked a haughty eyebrow in his direction as he mouthed wordlessly at her.

"W-_what_? But… I can't! Not _tonight! _Please, miss, it's Mello's birthday, and I promised him that we'd—"

"I'm sorry, Matt. Your actions do have consequences, and you have to face them. Yes, tonight. If I renegotiated your punishment based on your personal schedule, how would you learn? Mello will live. If anything, I'm sure that he would fully support my decision."

Matt lunged forward desperately, slamming his hands palm down on the desk and leaning toward her, wide sapphire eyes imploring. "But— I— ma'am, _please_, I'm his best friend and I _promised—"_

"Excuse me, Ms. Bourgh."

Matt broke off, whirling to find a small, pale figure silhouetted in the doorway, gazing back and forth between them with calculating gray eyes.

"Oh, hello, Near," Ms. Bourgh greeted, gesturing him forward kindly, "What can I do for you?"

Near shuffled forward slowly, glancing at Matt's anxious figure as he came to a stop next to the redhead and held out a small book. "Ms. Peyton asked me to bring this to you."

"Oh, thank you, dear. I'd been planning to run down to her room after class—"

"_Near!" _Matt grabbed the younger boy's shoulders frantically, whirling his friend to meet his pleading gaze. "Near, please, you gotta do me a favor. Tell… please tell Mel that—" He cast a particularly poisonous glare at Ms. Bourgh, which was ignored as the young teacher was eagerly thumbing through the pages of her book. "that I got a detention, and I… we can't hang out tonight… but I swear I'll make it up to him… we'll do something tomorrow, or—"

"Alright, thank you, Near, you may go now." Ms. Bourgh finally said, dragging herself away from her book and sliding it to the edge of her desk, returning her gaze to the two boys across from her. "Matt, the sooner you get started, the sooner you will finish."

Near glanced over his shoulder at Matt once more on his way toward the door, tangling his forefinger in a wild lock of silvery hair near is ear. "_Please tell him," _the redhead mouthed anxiously, watching the younger boy shuffle out of the classroom.

"Hey, Mello!"

Near paused in the midst of pressing a puzzle piece into place, slate gray eyes scanning to his left where, halfway down the corridor, Mello stopped short on his way back from the Library, whirling around to meet Abigail as she bounded giddily toward him.

"Happy birthday, man!" She grinned, giving his shoulder a gentle, affectionate punch. The blond's mouth curled into a smirk that almost, _almost _could be called a genuine smile. "Hey, we were gonna make you a cake… _quadruple chocolate_, o' course…" She elbowed him playfully. "You gonna be at dinner?"

"No," Mello replied, shifting his bag to the other arm, a tiny hint of authentic regret sparkling in jade green eyes at the mention of possible cake—especially of the chocolate variety, "Matt's got something cooked up. I think he's dragging me in to town or something."

"Oh…" Abigail pouted for half a second, shoving a haphazard lock of short auburn hair behind her ear. "So, Matt'll be gone, too…?" She bit her lip in distress at the mere thought, before her eyes lit up as she came to a satisfactory conclusion. "Well, you 'n' Matt can just come to our room when you get back, and we'll give you your cake! …Maybe… you guys could even hang out for a while…? …I've been stuck on this one part in Chrono Cross…"

Mello rolled his eyes impatiently at the ceiling, silently cursing the day that the female inhabitants of the House had taken note of Matt's expressive ice-blue eyes, perfectly disarrayed crimson hair, enigmatic smile—and the elusive dimples that came with it—_not_ that Mello'd noticed all this stuff… he'd just… overheard Stella and Linda giggling outside the girl's bathroom that one time….

"Sure, maybe," he replied absently, a perturbed frown marring his features at his own thought process, "I guess it depends on what time we get back."

A fidgety, awkward silence ensued, before Mello gave a short, pointed cough and hefted his bookbag. "I have to go drop my stuff off, then—"

"Oh, don't let me keep you!" she interrupted hastily, giving him a light shove in the direction of his room, "Mustn't keep Matt waiting, now! Just… don't let Roger catch you guys sneaking out," she whispered conspiratorially.

Mello nodded, the almost-smile sneaking across his lips again as he turned away from her. "Yeah, later Abbie."

"Ew, Mel!" she yelped indignantly at his back, "Don't _call _me that! My _name's _Artill—"

"Yeah, yeah!" Mello waved her off, heaving a frustrated sigh. God, sometimes girls were _so—_

What're _you _looking at, freak?" He stopped short, casting a disdainful glare at Near, sitting curled over his puzzle in the doorway of his and Matt's room.

Near stared back unblinkingly, absently twirling a strand of platinum hair around his forefinger. "…_Please tell Mel—"_

"I just wanted to wish Mello a 'happy birthday,'" he finally replied in a monotone.

Mello's eyebrows drew together in a mixture of confusion, suspicion, and slight disgust. He sneered at the younger boy. "Yeah right," he growled, taking care to scatter the pieces of Near's puzzle as he continued on his way down the hallway.

Near watched the blond's bookbag whip around the corner, blank pewter eyes narrowing marginally as he reached out to gather the stray pieces back to him.

* * *

Mello shivered, irately shoving his hands into his pockets and burying the lower half of his face into the front of his coat.

_'Where is Matt?'_ He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet in a bored manner, glancing disdainfully at the scraggly, leafless trees flanking either side of the patch of road where Matt had said to meet him.'_I'm flipping _cold. _Wanker has _five _minutes to get his ass out here, else I'm tracking him down and _kicking _it.' _

He scowled, fervently wishing he'd had the foresight to bring an extra chocolate bar. At the rate this birthday was going, he'd have to consume roughly thirteen of the sweets just to work up the endorphins to put him in a somewhat decent mood. Seriously. He'd gotten an _A- _on his algebra test (a friggin' _A-! _He _never _got anything less than a 98 percent!), L wasn't even _there, _and now Matt was standing him up! _Matt! _Standing _him_ up! Friggin'—

He blinked, the sound of heavy footstep and raucous laughter drifting from the opposite direction of Wammy's House catching his attention. He glanced over his shoulder curiously, watching a gang of teenagers round the curve in the road. They were older than him, probably around 17 or 18, and he didn't recognize any of them from Wammy's… what were they doing here?

"Oi!" one of them shouted, catching sight of him and gesturing, "What have we here?"

Mello turned fully, straightening himself out to seem taller, though the effect may have been slightly dampened by his overly large coat.

"One of those freaky li'l orphan kids," another one sneered, grinning toothily.

Mello narrowed his eyes, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides as he stared them down stonily.

"Wait, hold up." The boys parted slowly, and a single figure stepped forward, peering at him curiously. Mello returned the glance incredulously, eyeing the older boy up and down with barely concealed disdain—spiked dirty blond hair, average height, a little on the hefty side… overall nothing very remarkable, especially in what seemed to be the leader of the gang.

"So, it _is _you," the pudgy leader grinned, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "Huh. You've grown up quite nicely, eh, Kitten?"

Mello's eye twitched subtly as the nickname dredged up several unpleasant, long-forgotten memories. He grit his teeth, giving the teenager another once-over, his gaze finally settling on the crooked nose with dawning recognition. "Mm. Better than _you_, at least," he finally replied, "Beating kids half your size not enough of a workout anymore? You've packed on some _pounds_… er… sorry, forgot _your_ name?" He smirked as the goon's face contorted with rage.

The teenaged boy who'd been behind Matt's sprained wrist of several years ago seemed to have weaseled his way to the top of a new gang; there were more of them than Mello remembered and more than a few of them had an unpleasantly dodgy look about them.

"Phillips," the older boy hissed furiously, "Rodney Phillips." He raised his head haughtily, quirking a cocky eyebrow as he gazed at Mello down the length of his crooked nose. "And you'll do well to remember it, this time. A little respect, too…. But don't worry, Kitten," he grinned maliciously, his beady brown eyes widening excitedly, "we'll make _sure _you learn your lesson this time."

Mello squared his shoulders, the toe of his boot digging into the dirt as he tensed his legs, watching as the three boys directly behind Phillips—incidentally, three of the bulkiest of the group—skirted around their leader and started toward him at the smallest twitch of Phillips' head in his direction.

He bared his teeth defiantly as the rest of the group chortled at him.

"Oh," Phillips called lazily, crossing his arms and basking in the collective amusement of his cronies, "and bring me that coat. Looks comfortable."

* * *

Matt stretched gratefully, arms high above his head, back arching languidly. He sighed contentedly, rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder in an attempt to dispel the kink that had been assailing it for the past two and a half hours.

He glanced sullenly at a passing clock as he strolled down the hallway. 9:47… geeze, it couldn't have been legal for Ms. Bourgh to keep him cooped in her classroom for that long. Granted, she'd given him several breaks, but still… almost seven hours! And Mello…. He sighed, reluctantly turning his feet in the direction of the blond's room when he came to an intersecting corridor. Mello was probably _pissed_. Best to grovel now than let the other boy stew over it for a night….

His sneakers drug reluctantly against the carpet the closer he got to his friend's room. He actually felt rather terrible about the whole thing… he'd made Mello a promise after all, and what with L being away and all….

A confused hum of worried voices caught Matt's attention as he rounded the corner, freezing midstep as he caught sight of the gaggle of adults crowding around the door of Mello's room. He swallowed, a miniscule inkling of dread beginning to claw its way up his throat; he stomped it down firmly, cerulean eyes hardening determinedly as he closed the remaining distance.

"—where else he would be. I've checked Matt's room, the Library, the kitchen, the Common Room… I can't—"

"What's going on?"

Roger broke off abruptly, glancing down at the redhead as he came to a stop at his side. Matt glanced around the rest of the group, the shock at seeing L and Mr. Wammy back at the House far outweighed by the dull panic incited by their presence outside this particular room, concern obvious in their eyes—even L's, if you knew where to look.

"Matt," Mr. Wammy said gently, reaching out to rest a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder, "When was the last time you saw Mello?"

Matt gulped, feeling his heart jump into his throat as he peeked around L's hunched figure to find Mello's room empty, seemingly untouched. "Mel…? Well, I—" His mind raced frantically. '_Why--? Oh, god, they wouldn't be asking unless—' _"This afternoon in class—" '_Mel? What's going on? Where are you?' _"We were supposed to go—" He paused, biting his lip. Leaving the House without an adult was strictly against the rules… he didn't want to get in to any more trouble today.

"Yes? 'Supposed to go' where, Matt?" Roger prompted, taking a step closer to the boy.

He swallowed uncertainly, ignoring Roger and staring straight back into L's soul-searching eyes with a look of pure desperation. "L… what's going on?"

The raven-haired detective bit at the tip of his thumb in agitation, his gaze boring relentlessly into Matt's, as though he could weed the answers out of his protégé's face itself. "Please answer the question, Matt," he murmured quietly, "Mello seems to have disappeared."

Matt swallowed, closing his eyes in a desperate mixture of concern for his friend and despair at the punishment sure to come. "W-we were gonna go hang out in town… 'cause it was his birthday and all," he clarified quickly, gesturing wildly, "but… Ms. Bourgh gave me a detention and I—I didn't even get to tell him… but Ne—"

They weren't even listening anymore. Roger and Mr. Wammy were already halfway down the hall in the direction of Roger's office, and L had disappeared into Mello's room for a beat, before reappearing with the flashlight the blond kept in the drawer of his desk. He was gnawing on his bottom lip viciously, his eyes glinting with an intensity Matt had never before seen in the detective.

"Matt." He knelt down, bringing himself to eye-level with the boy, "You were going to meet somewhere outside the property, yes? Sneaking out together would have been far too obvious." The redhead nodded in confirmation, not daring to speak for the nausea attacking his stomach. "_Where?_"

He slipped around the gate with the last of the staff to exit the Wammy's property. Glancing around, he made sure that no one had noticed his presence before darting into the trees, skirting the road, keeping out of sight behind the foliage as he ran.

L had told him to stay inside—had very sternly forbade him to set foot outside the orphanage doors. But… how could he expect him to do that? Mello was out here somewhere… something had happened to him, something to keep him from returning to the House. God, if he was hurt, or lost…. Matt's stomach jolted at the thought. It was snowing… so cold….

The cold night air was alive with dozens of frantic voices calling Mello's name; L had roused nearly the entire staff to search for the blond, leaving only a handful of caretakers to look after the children remaining oblivious, safe behind the orphanage walls.

Matt stumbled, a soft cry ripping past his lips as his trainer caught a tree root. It was so dark, how was he ever going to find Mello… it was highly unlikely that the other boy was still even anywhere near their agreed meeting place, but even the smallest chance….

"Mel…?" he whispered anxiously, scanning the small clearing with wide eyes. The tangled branches arching over his head blocked out most of the starlight, and Matt had been too rushed to even think of bringing a flashlight. He could barely see a confused jumble of footprints slowly disappearing beneath the top layer of newly fallen snow, and Matt followed them carefully, shuffling across to the other side of the clearing.

"Mell-_oof!_"

He pushed himself up quickly, frantically swiping the snow off of his face as he rolled over to see what had tripped him.

He felt his heart stop at the sight of familiar scuffed black boots barely protruding past a shadowy bush he hadn't even taken into account during his cursory sweep of the area. His breath came in quick, sporadic pants, the blood pounding through his veins so loudly that he barely heard his own voice whispering, "Mello? M…Mel?"

He crawled reluctantly over, his eyes widening fearfully as he noticed the blotchy blemishes on the snow, darker than the shadows. "Mihael…?"

Mello was deathly still, almost as pale as the snowflakes powdering his face and hair. Matt barely had time to notice that the smaller boy was only wearing a black turtleneck before he had lunged forward automatically, latching onto his friend's limp shoulders. "Mel!" he squeaked, giving him a gentle shake.

There were scratches… marks everywhere… every visible patch of skin was bruised, and there was a nasty looking gash to the head that seemed to be the main source of the blood. But… there was so much….

"Mello!" His panicked voice was getting louder, shriller as the blond refused to show even the slightest hint of consciousness. "Mel! Wake up! _Mello!" _

There was a crashing sound back in the direction he'd come from, and he screamed instinctively. "_L! L!" _He continued to shout the detective's name like a mantra as the crashing grew louder, someone rushing toward them, shoving, uncaring, past tree branches and bushes.

Hysterical, Matt wrapped Mello in his arms, gathering as much of his friend's limp body into his lap as possible. Still screaming, he watched the point of light bobbing rapidly in their direction through blurry, tear-filled eyes.

_He'll be okay… it's Mello… he'll be fine…._

L burst through the trees at a dead run, hurried by Matt's panicked screams, faster than the redhead had ever even imagined he could move. His hair was a wild tangle, his cheeks flushed with exertion as he skidded and dropped to his knees when he reached them, wide eyes taking in Mello at a glance before he ripped off his coat and wrapped it carefully around the boy's still body.

"He won't answer me, L. He won't say anything—" Matt was babbling, rocking back and forth in shock as he numbly watched L press his fingers carefully to Mello's throat.

The clearing was filling with people now, appearing from all directions, flooding the small area with light. Gasps and frantic whispering broke out at the sight of the blood.

"L, make him answer! He's alright, right…? Make him talk to me! _L!"_

L pursed his lips, catching sight of Mr. Wammy and Roger pushing their way through the crowd. He nodded quickly at Matt the second the two men reached the front of the mass of adults swarming around the detective and two boys, and they stepped forward, prying the panicked redhead slowly away from Mello, leaving L free to lift him gently into his arms.

"No! Let me—fucking let me _go!_ Mello! Mel, talk to me! _Mello!_"

_Be alright. Be okay. Please, please, please…._

"Matt," Roger panted, struggling to hold the boy back from chasing wildly after L and the limp figure in his arms, "Matt, calm down!"

"There's nothing you can do, Matt," Mr. Wammy agreed gently, keeping a firm hold on his arm, "You found him, that's enough. You need to allow him the attention he needs."

His thrashing slowed after a minute. Panting desperately, he glancing up at the elderly men flanking him, and Mr. Wammy nodded. They started off, following L's footprints back in the direction of the orphanage, Roger and Mr. Wammy keeping hold of Matt's shoulders lest he attempt to break free and get in the way again.

_Oh god, Mel… this is my fault…._

**To be continued.**

_Heh. Cliffhanger…? Sorry 'bout that. But… yeah. Also, sorry if L seemed out of character. I figure if anything could get his knickers in a twist, it would be missing/hurt!Mello. …Or a chocolate-covered-Light. But he doesn't get one of those yet. Hee._

_Also, I wouldn't even know where to _start _when it comes to review responses… I'm tired, cranky, and… kinda, inexplicably nauseas… so PLEASE forgive my not responding this time around…? I swear I'll start it back up next chapter._

_**I LOVE AND APPRECIATE YOU ALL! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!**_

_Until next time, then, my friends…_

_Bwoff!_


	9. IX

**_Minion's Note: _**_Soooo… all in favor of a Matt-centric chapter say "AYE!" Ahem. Anyway, hallo. So sorry for the long wait. I made a second valiant attempt at waiting for my laptop to be fixed and… turns out it won't be. Ever. It's apparently not even worth saving, so I'll have to buy a new one. But, it sounds like the hard drive is salvageable, so keep your fingers crossed! Anyway, here ya go, a cure for all your cliffhager-induced ills!_

**_Oh, and I have to do some pimping!_**

_There's a new music vid… though it's Light/L, but it's still good! Promise! _

_www youtube com/watch?vdJtc3PJknA_

_And Abi (aka Therkin) got an account, and posted a fic called _Wammy'd! …_which is basically a collection of all our random drabbles/stuff we get distracted with while brainstorming for this fic. (Le sigh) _

_www fanfiction net/s/4162225/1/Wammyd_

_'kay. Moving on!_

**_Disclaimer (Since I forgot it last chapter. Heh.) : _**_Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.IX.**

"You guys can't _do _this!" Matt shouted, pounding his fist furiously against the wall of the corridor, "He's my friend, you can't keep me from making sure he's okay!"

Madame Weir, the small, motherly resident nurse of Wammy's House, stood in the doorway, her arms braced against either side of the doorframe, firmly blocking his way into the infirmary. Roger and Mr. Wammy had taken up position several steps behind her, flanking the matron in the unlikely event that the fuming redhead should make it past her.

"Matt," Roger said firmly, taking a deep breath in an impressive effort to keep his temper and frazzled nerves in check, "we have been _more_ than fair. You have missed two full days of classes—you've barely eaten, barely slept, and God knows you haven't bathed—" He wrinkled his nose in disdain, ignoring Mr. Wammy's sidelong look of reprimand. "Mello is in _very_ good care. He's made it this long, it won't kill him if you are gone for a couple of hours to properly care for yourself."

"Worrying yourself to death will hardly hasten his recovery, Matt," Mr. Wammy agreed, favoring the eleven-year-old with a gentle, compassionate smile, "Go. Take a shower, relax, attend to your studies, sleep in your own bed. He will still be here when you get back."

Matt deflated, his wide, bloodshot cerulean eyes pleading as they darted from face to unyielding face. "But…" His shoulders slumped and he licked his lips desperately, "but… what if he wakes up…" He glanced anxiously through the miniscule gap between Madame Weir's severe figure and Roger's, searching out the small, pale form lying motionless in the stark white bed in the back corner of the little infirmary. "and I'm not there?"

Mr. Wammy pursed his lips sadly, and even Roger seemed a little taken aback by the pure desperation shining in the boy's face, but Madame Weir was not to be moved. "Then he will just have to wait for you to be allowed to see him."

The young boy's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"There will always be someone by Mello's side, Matt." L shuffled to the doorway, peering around the corner over Madame Weir's fraying bun. "I promise. Now really, I must insist that you do as Roger and Watari say. You may come back tomorrow morning before your classes."

Matt's eyes drifted closed wearily, and he sighed, relenting at last as the infirmary door shut him out with a soft click.

* * *

An irate pounding echoed from the direction of the locked door, accompanied by a muffled, rather annoyed sounding yell, but Matt ignored it. So he'd—for all intents and purposes—taken over the second floor boys' washroom; so what? A guy was allowed a little space and hot water while in the midst of a possible emotional and mental breakdown, thank you very much. They could just mosey their sorry arses down the stairs and use the first floor. Bloody whiney gits.

Matt allowed his head to loll forward with a sigh, resting his chin against his collarbone as the near-scalding water attempted to pound the kinks in his neck into submission. He slumped forward, propping his arms against the tile wall of the shower stall as the grime of the last several days swirled down the drain at his feet.

Exhausted sapphire eyes blinked open slowly, staring at sopping locks of russet hair sightlessly.

_"He didn't lose as much blood as we initially thought," Madame Weir murmured tiredly, blinking in the early-morning sunlight finally beginning to glint through the infirmary window, "However, there are other things to worry about; his left wrist is broken and he has fractured his sternum…."_

_L nodded, his soul-searching gaze wandering across the small form laid out motionless on the sterile white sheets of the Infirmary bed. At the bedside, Matt straddled a chair he had dragged noisily into the ward, wide eyes red-rimmed and exhausted as he gently smoothed stray strands of Mello's hair into meticulous order across the pillow._

_"And…?" the detective finally prompted when the nurse failed to elaborate. _

_She sighed, reaching back to straighten her frazzled bun. "The concussion," she continued in a more subdued whisper, pitying hazel eyes darting to Matt's bowed head worriedly, "There's no telling how long he was unconscious—out in the snow, with no protection, he's lapsed into the second stages of hypothermia, and…" She took hold of the sleeve of L's baggy sweater, drawing him quietly away from the two boys. "L, I don't know when he's going to wake up—"_

_"—if he does at all," the young man finished monotonously. At her hesitant nod, his shoulders tensed imperceptibly, his thumb jumping automatically to his teeth as he glanced once more at the prostrate twelve-year-old on the bed._

_"L, I'll do everything I can. But if—"_

_"I must have Roger inform the staff," L interrupted firmly, shuffling decisively away from the matron, "The children will be asking questions, they must be told before a panic sets in…" He paused in his musings, his still-booted feet digging restlessly into the carpet as he came to a halt beside Matt's chair._

_"He's so cold," the redhead murmured disbelievingly, not even bothering to glance up at his mentor, his gaze glued firmly to the pale, bruised hand cradled gently between his own._

_L was silent for a moment, ink black eyes focused on the doorway out of the room intently, though he made no move toward it. A short eternity passed, before one spidery hand rose, almost of its own accord, to gently brush tussled crimson bangs back from a distraught brow._

_Matt remained silent, though his frantic trembling did seem to calm somewhat, and L continued out the door. _

He grit his teeth violently.

Two full days… _two days_ and Mello had barely even stirred, let alone open those glinting emerald eyes Matt was desperate to catch sight of. Honestly, he was terrified. The little, niggling voice in the back of his mind whispering that Mello was never going to leave that bed conscious was getting louder by the hour.

_'What if he never wakes up…?' _He whimpered weakly, slumping bonelessly against the slick tile wall of the shower and sliding into a soaking, quivering mess on the floor. _'And… what if he _does… _but he's not really Mello anymore?' _An uncomfortable prickle of tears assaulted his eyes at this thought. _'What if the head trauma's so bad… he's just… gone?' _

Well, not gone… physically, at least. But the little things… the brilliant, vicious mind, proud smirk, and overwhelming desire to be the best that made him who he was. What if that terrifying genius was lost?

_It would be his fault._

He gnawed at his lip desperately, yanking his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them tightly. _'This is all my fault. Mel's never really cared about birthdays… it was me that made him go out… me that wasn't there to help him. I… I've failed him. Mel… I'm so sorry….'_

The choked sob that he had been biting back all day wrenched itself free with a strangled gasp as Matt hugged his knees closer, burying his face in his thighs.

_'What have I done…?'_

* * *

Sniffling lightly, he peeked cautiously around the doorjamb, quickly searching the infirmary for the forbidding figures of Roger, Madame Weir, or even kindly old Mr. Wammy before stepping through.

The adults who had banished him from Mello's side had been replaced by three new visitors. Anya hovered at the bedside, gently smoothing sheets and fluffing pillows, humming softly as she tenderly brushed Mello's bangs into order; across the bed, Abigail was meticulously arranging cards, chocolates, and other various presents on the table and windowsill, every so often casting a hopeful glance at the blond's still face; and Justin had taken over Matt's abandoned chair, sitting at the foot of the bed with a battered copy of the _Divine Comedy_ lying, untouched, in his lap.

"Matt." Abigail paused as she noticed him watching them from across the room, twisting the almost-empty plastic bag in her hands while the other two turned to level steady gazes on him as well.

"What're you guys doing here?" Matt asked, a slight hint of accusation tinting his voice—what right did they have to replace _him_ at Mello's bedside? _He _was Mello's best friend! That was _his _chair, and he should be the only one rearranging linens and pillows, damnit!

"He's our friend, too, Matt," Anya murmured quietly, almost as though she had read his mind, "Madame Weir only just now let us see him. You've been the only one allowed so far."

Matt had the good grace to look slightly abashed at her first words, guiltily averting his eyes to Justin as the ebony-haired boy adjusted his glasses habitually.

"Ah, right…" The redhead scratched at his cheek awkwardly. "So… wh-what's with all the…" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the overflowing bedside table beside Abigail.

"Get well presents, of course," the brunette replied amiably, finally setting the last card on top of the stack, before irritably brushing a stray lock of chin-length hair behind her ear, "Everyone was talking when he wasn't in class yesterday, and Roger made the announcement last night at dinner. Everyone's really worried. Wh…" She paused, casting surreptitious glances at her twin and Justin before barreling on. "Matt, what _happened_ to him?"

Matt's face contorted with a mixture of sorrow and guilt at the question. _'My fault… all mine….' _He averted his gaze quickly, biting his lip viciously to stem off the tears threatening to reclaim his eyes.

"—I mean, he seemed okay when I talked to him before he left… he was a little pissy with Near, I s'pose… but that's not that unusu—"

_"Abbie," _Anya hissed, glaring at her sister angrily as the redhead practically folded in on himself under the weight of his self-loathing.

Before anyone could make another move, the silent figure in the chair rose abruptly, tucking his book under his arm as he cleared his throat. "Come on, Matt," Justin murmured kindly, one slender hand settling itself on the younger boy's shoulder, the henna-colored fingers a stark contrast to the pale skin of Matt's neck, "Let's get you back to your room, yeah?"

Matt shook his head insistently, and Justin sighed. "Matt, I know you're worried. We all are. But L said you weren't allowed to spend the night in that chair again. He told us to make sure you slept in your own bed. You haven't even changed clothes, have you?"

Matt blinked, slightly disconcerted by the suddenness of the question, giving his shirt an uncertain sniff where his chin was buried in his chest, before grimacing in distaste and raising pathetic, vulnerable eyes to stare up at Justin through a fringe of fiery bangs.

The older boy sighed, partly out of affectionate exasperation, partly from a very genuine sense of overwhelming helplessness at the situation. "Matt," he murmured, leaning down so he could meet his friend gaze for gaze, liquid amber staring into terrified azure blue, "there's nothing you can do. We're all scared for him, but we're worried about _you_, too. You're going to push yourself to exhaustion at this rate, and then what good will you be to him?"

"I… I know," Matt whispered, his eyes sliding to stare at the taller boy's shoulder in shame, "but… I need to be with him. I need to… he _has_ to wake up…"

"He will."

The redhead blinked, his brow furrowing in surprise at the pure conviction in Justin's voice.

"Mello's a tough little brat. Something like this isn't going to stop him—delay him for a while, maybe, but he'll be up and fighting tooth and nail for first place again before you know it." Justin flashed an uncharacteristically charming smile, squeezing Matt's shoulder reassuringly. "Now. How about some sleep?" It was more order than suggestion, and Matt was helpless to stop him as the older boy guided him firmly out of the room and down the hall.

Justin didn't vanquish his firm grip on Matt's shoulder until he had steered the younger boy all the way back to his own room. "I'll be back to check on you later," Justin was saying as he pushed the door open, "and Roger or someone will be by at lights out, so don't even think about sneaking off to the infirmary again—"

"Ah, Matt. You've finally returned."

Matt blinked in surprise at the pale, hunched figure balled up on the floor in front of the window, a toy tank in one hand. "Near…" His brow furrowed at the sight of his friend—there was… something… something he should know, something important.

_"Near, please, you gotta do me a favor. Tell… please tell Mel—"_

_"Ms. Bourgh gave me a detention and I—I didn't even get to tell him… but Ne—"_

_"—he seemed okay when I talked to him before he left… he was a little pissy with Near, I s'pose…"_

Cobalt eyes widened in shock and disbelief as that _something_ finally clicked. He hadn't been able to tell Mello himself that he'd gotten a detention, but he'd asked Near to let him know, so that he wouldn't think that Matt had purposely abandoned him. Mello had obviously never been told, or else he wouldn't have even gone outside, let alone actually leave the Wammy's property, and yet… Abigail said that she'd seen Near and Mello together right before the blond left.

Near never told Mello. Mello had left the House, and now…

It took the redhead approximately five seconds to process this onslaught of evidence and the resulting conclusions, just long enough for his supposed _best friend _to cock his head inquiringly at Matt's thunderstruck gaping.

"Y—it was you…"

Near's eyelids slid to half-mast at the accusation, pewter eyes going cold and blank as he pegged the older boy with a lazy stare. Justin, forgotten in the doorway, glanced back and forth between the two in confusion.

"Y-you let Mello leave the orphanage alone," Matt's breathing hitched for a second, his eyes wide as he tried to wrap his head around the idea of Near indirectly, but _purposely,_ sending Mello to the infirmary, "I asked you to _tell_ him and you—"

"It must have slipped my mind," the smaller boy replied almost nonchalantly, one pale finger sliding up to bury itself in a lock of wild silvery hair.

Matt grit his teeth, clenching the rough denim of his jeans in both hands. He shook his head disbelievingly, a humorless chuckle breaking past his lips as he met Near's level gaze. "Like I'm going to believe that," he whispered raggedly, "You never forget _anything. _You saw him, you talked to him, and you just let him walk off without a word." He licked his lips uncertainly. "Near… he—he might _die!_ Or worse… he might never wake up, and—"

Near's calculating gaze slipped over Matt's shoulder to Justin as comprehension began to dawn in the ebony-haired boy's wide eyes.

"It was never my intention fo—"

"No, of _course_ not. It's just an added bonus, isn't it!?" Matt yelled, taking a furious half step toward the boy on the floor. "Fuck, Near! You two—god_ damnit! _I know you two never got along, but—"

"Mello was my rival," Near said simply, as though it explained everything, eerily calm as he rose slowly to his feet and stood staring up into Matt's fuming face.

"_Is _your rival!" the older boy shrieked, "_Is! _He's not dead! He's not! He's _not _going to die!" He lurched at his old friend in a blind fury, jolted to a halt by Justin's vice-like hands clamping around his arms. "That's _sick_, Near! You tried to off him because he was a _threat!? _What's next? _Me? Anya, Justin!?"_

"I did not 'try to off' Mello. And even if that had been my intention, it would not continue on to the rest of you, as you are not in any position to stand between me and my goal," he stated bluntly, barely taking notice of Justin's visible flinch at the barb, "In any case, it was not in the matter of L's succession where Mello was a true threat."

There was a short pause, crackling with tension as Matt took a second to work out these words. His mouth dropped open in shock. _"Me!? _You—I—you did this because of _me!?"_

Near narrowed his eyes in thought, focusing his hard stare on Matt's shoulder. "Had Mello felt that you were 'standing him up,' he would have been enraged and taken it as an insult. There is a seventy percent chance that he would have severed all ties with you in retaliation."

The other boy mouthed wordlessly, shaking his head. "I—what _was_ I? Just another plane of competition for you!? _'Whoever gets Matt wins!?' _I thought I was your friend!_"_

Near made no move to respond immediately, simply staring at the redhead as he absently twirled a strand of hair around his forefinger. "It is not possible for Mello and me to share. You said that you weren't going to choose between us."

Matt's lip curled in disgust as he took a step away from Near. "I didn't," he hissed, "_You_ made the choice for me." He turned his back decisively, then, marching over to the closet on the opposite side of the room from where Near stood and yanking out a new change of clothes.

In the doorway, Justin shifted uncomfortably. "Matt—"

"I'm _not _staying here, Justin."

"But—"

"I'll go sleep in _Mello's_ room. There's still an extra bed in there from the time Roger tried to assign him a roommate. That's all you want me to do, right? Sleep?" The eyes he turned to look at Justin were so riddled with turmoil that the older boy didn't dare dispute him; he sighed, casting one last glance at the small figure of Near, still standing motionless in his place in front of the window, before stepping aside and gesturing Matt out the door.

The redhead stormed out, not even pausing to collect his handheld. Justin followed Matt's retreating form with pitying tawny eyes, before turning hesitantly back to the room's sole occupant. "You know I have to tell Roger."

Near was silent, not even glancing at the older boy as he settled back on the floor and reached for his tank with only the barest, miniscule hint of a tremble.

* * *

The door eased shut with a barely audible click and Matt collapsed back to rest against it as he stared sightlessly around the warmly lit room.

Vague blue eyes absently traced the neatly ordered desk, flanked by stacks of textbooks on either side; the unmade bed, crowned with a hastily thrown bookbag and several abandoned sweaters, the well-worn rosary beads glinting crimson where they were draped over the bedpost; the small, battered boombox—a present from Matt on the blond's eleventh birthday, pilfered from the waste bin and carefully restored to working order—and short stack of secondhand CDs, mostly classical, scattered over the bedside table; the small bin in the corner, overflowing with chocolate wrappers….

Matt stumbled forward, barely making it to the unoccupied bed in the opposite corner of the room before he collapsed. He carelessly tossed his bundle of clean clothes in the general direction of the floor before burrowing himself into the crisp, unused sheets, desperate to slip away from the nightmarish reality slowly blanketing his world.

Mello… unconscious, wounded, and unresponsive…. Near… best friend turned cold and unremorseful, focused only on L, unable to see Matt as anything more than a possession—just one more thing to win. When the _hell_ had everything turned upside down?

He squeezed his eyes shut with a whimper, rolling to bury his face in the cool pillow without even bothering to shut off the light.

* * *

Matt swiped sweaty bangs out of his eyes, staggering back to slide down the wall, eyeing his progress with satisfaction.

It had required skipping his afternoon classes, and would probably earn him a good talking-to—at the very least—from Roger, assuming the old man was still feeling charitable and didn't give him a detention… but it had been worth it, to avoid Near during the process.

The once bare, unoccupied half of the room was finally scattered with hints of life; his clothes were nestled messily in the previously empty closet--Mello had been perfectly content with the dresser--his shoes thrown carelessly under the bed… the desk parallel to Mello's strewn with game cartridges and his hibernating laptop, the drawers stuffed full to brimming with all of his tools, his backpack draped carelessly over the chair… his current project—the old, broken television set from the common room—set up in the middle of the floor… his prized _Super Smash Bros._ poster—a Christmas present from Mello—tacked up over the bed….

Yep. Well worth it.

He would have smirked as he pictured the shocked look on Near's face when the younger boy returned to their room to find all of his roommate's worldly possessions gone, the left side of the small room completely bare of any sign that Matt had ever existed—he _would_ have smirked… if he hadn't been positive that the boy was now absolutely incapable of emotion, let alone expressing it.

With a contented sigh, he wandered over to the bed, sprawling out across the mattress and glancing around at his new home, firmly shoving all thoughts of his former best friend to the far corner of his mind—the dusty one, with no electricity and very hungry Rodents of Unusual Size waiting in the shadows, ready to pounce.

He bit his lip, rolling onto his side to check the clock on his bedside table—forty minutes until class got out, and forty-five before Madame Weir would let him in to see Mello without a fuss. He sighed, this one far less content, as his gaze slid past the clock face, focusing on the textbook still propped open on Mello's desk, a pen and a notebook covered in small, cramped handwriting abandoned at its side.

* * *

They had gone through approximately two and a half rotations of the arrangement that had unconsciously become routine in the small Wammy's infirmary.

When classes began, Roger would appear in the doorway with the morning newspaper, settle into the chair situated at the foot of Mello's bed, and read until lunchtime. When the elderly man had disappeared out into the hallway in the direction of his office, cucumber sandwiches, and his afternoon paperwork, Madame Weir would putter over, fussing over Mello's temperature, pulse, and other various ailments before standing motionless at the beside for a good while, staring worriedly down into the pale, bruised face. Exactly five minutes after the bell rang for classes to end, there would be a flash of crimson at the door and then Matt would be hovering anxiously over Mello's prone figure, firing off questions about his condition, coloring, and whether or not his eyelids had just fluttered. Madame Weir would resume her silent vigil for exactly fifty minutes after forcing the eleven-year-old out of the door to go to dinner, before he was back again, this time accompanied by the Locke twins and Justin, and the four would station themselves around the bed for the next several hours. At 10:15, Anya would rise from her seat on the floor, close her book, and beckon for Abigail to do the same, before the two would gently, but firmly accompany a very irate Matt in the direction of his room and bed. Then, only Justin would remain calmly in the chair at the foot of the bed, eyes tranquilly scanning the page of whatever epic he had chosen for the night, until the door creaked quietly back on its hinges and L shuffled in, laptop in hand, to silently trade places with his protégé as the boy bid a soft goodnight and headed off to sleep, leaving the detective to watch over the infirmary's motionless ward until the process could start over again in the morning.

The room was silent, and victorious Achilles had just lashed Hector's corpse to the back of his chariot when there came a soft, barely audible shifting from the direction of the bed.

Justin glanced up swiftly, shaking obsidian bangs out of his eyes as the movement came again, this time stronger and slightly more assured. He glanced about the shadowy infirmary uncertainly—the others were long gone and L was still a while in coming. Setting _The Illiad _in the chair as he rose slowly to his feet, he stepped around to the side of the bed, kneeling so that he was nearly face to face with the pale boy lying beneath the sheets.

"Mello?" he murmured uncertainly, his hand stretching out to hover hesitantly over tussled golden bangs.

A soft moan broke the apprehensive silence, before eyelids flickered weakly, and bleary emerald eyes opened slowly, blinking up at him in confusion.

**To be continued.**

_Pseudo-cliffhanger'd! Haha, sorry. Not as bad as the last one, right? Anyway, yeah. There you go. An entire chapter practically without Mello. Woot…? Is that good or bad? lol. Anyway, tell me what you think. I'm kind of uncertain as to Matt's actions throughout a lot of it. I've never been faced with the possibility of losing my best friend, but I'm sure if I did I would manage a level of hysteria far more impressive than even Matty's… but lemme know if you think it was too much. I'm not too sure about it. Also, I really wish Justin was Jessamine's real name so I could call him Jessamine all the time. I love it so much… and forget and have to proofread a lot. Blegh. Anyway! Promised I'd get back into the reviews this chapter, so:_

**Pint of Stella: **Hey, thanks, I'm so glad you liked it! And, as you see, only Chapter 8 v.1.0 is lost in limbo! Behold v.2.0! Heh. Thanks for the review! **siriusly delusional: **Thanks for your review! I'm glad you like it and hope you continue to read! **aya: **Well, hallo, glad to virtually see ya! And poor Mello, indeed. Hope you enjoyed the aaaaaangst. **Trinny Dream: **…I hate Near. Can you tell? He's the perfect antagonist. I love making him a bastard. Heh. Anyhoo, glad you liked it! Hope this one was worth the wait, too. **CorpsexBride: **Well predicted! Heh. Though we didn't really get to see Mel's reaction to the whole thing. More of a groggy, "The hell? She wrote a whole chapter without me speaking? WTF?" lol. Thanks for the review! **Never.To.Late: **I'm sorry! Don't cry! Here, have more! …Anyhoo, thanks for the review! **Morninggreen: **Thanks. I hope I didn't disappoint you! **Hair-Noodles: **It really is, isn't it? Granted, I loved it, but honestly there are some fics on here that I think would make just as good cannon prequels and such… but that's just me… did ya finish it? And oh yeah, thanks for the review! I really appreciate it! Hope you liked this chappie, too! **axenator: **Yo! Glad you beat the system, 'cause I gotta tell ya, the gazelle comment made me spit my white raspberry tea. It was brilliant, though I'm none-too-happy 'bout my lost tea. (Scowl) But, I agree with the graceful part… the fact that he's mastered Capoeira and looks so awesomely badass doing it points to some serious grace. LOVE. Anyway! Ramble over. Thanks for sticking with it! Hope you liked this chapter! **Aclatis: **…dude, my thumb still hurts, and it's been two days since the Wammy Soul Calibur party. **mystic: **lol! Thanks! If you ever do end up being late, don't tell them it was me'r else I'll be getting angry administrative emails! Not as planned! Thanks for reading… but please don't take Mello's chocolate. He's so irritable without it…. **Kusuri: **Mm. I'll be taking all three of those, thank you. lol. Though I'll keep my arms… y'know, so I don't have to type with a stick in my mouth or somethin'… haha! Anyhoo, thanks! I'm so glad you like it! **Fool4Sasuke33: **I'm a fool for banter… and fluff… and angst. Heh. (High fives back) Near-haters FTW! Stupid li'l Toad. Blegh. Glad you liked it, hope you continue to! **momijikk: **lol. I think that's the fastest L would ever move in his life. …he'd have to beat out the fangirls, after all. LOL! I hate homework, too. Ew. Homework. (Shudder) Anyhoo… how would the story progress if I told you!? Besides, Light is still in the process of choosing the brand… he's finally narrowed it down, and is torn between Godiva an—oh. Not what you wanted! **thinlimitation: **There is more! …not so soon, though. (Hangs head in shame) Sorry. Hope you liked it, though. And thanks for the review! **The life of a teenage racoon: **lol, your name makes me giggle. Hee. Thanks for the review! Sorry 'bout the cliffie. They're the bane of fandoms everywhere, but a necessary evil! Le sigh. Hope you keep reading! **The Chaos Apple: **(Wide eyed) Dude. That's creepy. lol. Just threw the name in at random! Anyway! It's cause it makes people angry, and angry people tend to review more than content people. …(Shifty eyes) I dunno. Lawl. It sounds good, though. Yeah, even though the name thing is supposedly uncannon, now, I still like it and won't change it! Bwaha! Thanks so much for reading! I actually read your review right before sitting down to finish it, so congrats on being the one to actually spur me into writing! LOL! Thanks!

_…hooooooly CRAP. You guys're awesome. Thanks!_

_Bwoff._


	10. X

**_Author's Note: _**_Hi, everybody! Not dead! Anyhoo… here's chapter ten. Was a bitch to get out, so I hope you overlook the crappiness in favor of the fact that I slaved in order to get it to you. Also, very dialogue-heavy, not very action-packed this time around. Heh._

**_Anyhoo, just something to know: _**_I'm now flying solo on this fic. Therkin doesn't seem to want any part of it anymore, and I can't say for certain how the story and/or updates will be affected by that. We'd basically sketched out the entire story, or at least the major plot points, but that means that all the little filler parts are going to have to be entirely me; while I can and will do it, I wouldn't be surprised if that meant longer gaps between chapters. So, sorry in advance._

**_Disclaimer: _**_Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.X.**

"It's… a comic book."

Matt poked his head around the doorframe, his eyebrows knit in confusion as he searched out the figures at the far side of the room—L perched at the foot of Mello's bed, his toes scrunching the bed sheets as he watched the blond boy turn the book over and over in his hands.

"It has also been published as a short story."

"But… you gave me a comic book."

The young detective's pale lips stretched in a small, amused smile as Mello's nose wrinkled in disdain. He brought his thumb to his mouth, nipping at the tip absently. "It is a good comic book."

Mello bit back a scowl as he glanced up at his mentor, setting the comic on the bedside table delicately, as though it pained him to even touch it. "Thank you, I… guess… but, L… I—couldn't you have gotten me something that… I dunno—helped my studies or something…?"

L's lips pursed gently and he cocked his head to the side. "I have been told that a birthday present is something that one should receive a certain amount of pleasure from," he replied simply, "With that said, I could hardly, in good conscience, give you a textbook or something in that vein." The look on Mello's face clearly stated that he certainly _could _have given him a textbook… maybe even one with explicit details on how to surpass one's arch nemesis in five easy steps or less, and he would have enjoyed it quite immensely. L chuckled breathily. "Everyone must rest at some point, Mello. The mind requires time to relax in order to work in its full capacity. I would teach you to play the piano if I felt you had the patience for it—it used to calm me very efficiently."

"But, _L! _I've been here for _days! _Don't you think I've rested enough!?"

The dark-haired young man clambered to his feet, gazing down at his protégé appraisingly as he scratched at an ankle with his foot. "You have only been conscious for two of those days, Mello. Give yourself time to recuperate. You will have enough time for studying when you have recovered. Read the comic book. I think you will quite enjoy it—I did. I have left the rest of your presents with Madame Weir to give to you when you have finished."

Mello huffed, glaring down at the comic as L shuffled from the room, but unwilling to truly scorn anything his idol had given him.

Clearing his throat lightly, Matt stepped around the door, smiling shyly up at the detective as he skirted past him on his way to the bedside. "Hey," he greeted amiably, dropping into the vacant chair and propping his feet up on the mattress. Mello grunted, shoving the feet off his bed irritably as he sat up straighter, snatching L's gift back into his lap and narrowing his eyes at it.

"It really is a great comic, Mel," Matt forged on, unobtrusively sitting forward to set a chocolate bar down on the sheet an inch or so from Mello's thigh, "I read it last year. You'll like it. 's a murder mystery." He smiled hopefully as Mello finally met his gaze incredulously.

"Yeah, I _got_ that from the title," the blond replied huffily, dropping the book back to the bedside table in favor of the chocolate, unwrapping it and gnawing at it more out of habit than any real desire for it.

Matt coughed in embarrassment, glancing down at the large, yellow _Murder Mysteries _splashed obviously across the front cover of the comic. "Anyway," he diverted, clearing his throat as he inched forward on his chair and looked his friend up and down critically, "how're you feeling?"

Mello tossed a glare at him, before wrenching open the book and staring pointedly down at the first panel, though it was questionable whether or not he was actually absorbing the content.

The redhead sat back, staring forlornly down at a rip in the knee of his jeans as Mello continued to act as though he had left the room… or maybe never even entered it in the first place. It had been this way since he woke up. He had totally disregarded Matt's ecstatic, almost tear-filled greeting, choosing instead to act nearly as cold and aloof as he had when the two had first met. Matt had been crestfallen; while a larger part of himself than he would have wished insisted that it was nothing less than he deserved—what with it being his fault and all—he _had _been secretly hoping that maybe… just _maybe _Mello cared about him enough not to blame him, or if he _did_, to at least forgive him. That's certainly what _he _would have done, had their roles been reversed.

But he had let it slide, just like he always had and always would. Mello was Mello after all, and though Matt would change some things about the other boy if he could… perhaps this was one of those things that made him who he was—those things that, just a few nights ago, Matt had begged whatever god chose to listen, not to take away. He couldn't question it; that was how their friendship was—Mello was the indisputable leader. So, he had let it slide and Mello had shrugged it all off, informing him that he couldn't care less that he had never showed up and left it at that. He allowed the younger boy to come and visit him, but clearly never took pleasure in his appearance at the infirmary door.

There was a long silence, in which Madame Weir appeared with a glass of water and several pills for Mello, and a pitying glance for Matt. Matt scuffed the toe of his trainer absently against a bed post, while Mello just-as-absently turned the page of his comic. The silence quickly became stifling.

"Mello," Matt finally said, just short of an exasperated, betrayed explosion. The blond actually glanced up at the tone of his friend's voice, narrowing his eyes menacingly as Matt's face explained that their hierarchy was about to be challenged. "I've already apologized. Multiple times, in fact. What else do you _want _from me!?"

"And I've already _told _you, multiple times, that I don't give a flying fuck that you weren't there. You got a detention." Mello growled, accidentally crumpling the corner of a page in his irritation. Damnit. He had bigger things to worry about than Matt's need for atonement--there were character flaws, both old and new, to work out and come to terms with.

The building explosion finally came. Matt was suddenly on his feet, his chair crashing to the ground in a spectacular accompaniment. "Then what the hell is wrong with you!?" he yelled, his arms unable to keep still and gesturing furiously at the blond, "Why are you acting this way!? I'm your _best friend!_ Not some… random suck-up, here just because I'm afraid of you! If you're mad at me, fine! _Be_ mad, but have a _reason! _Otherwise, get over yourself and at least _act_ like it matters to you that I care!"

They glared at each other, bristling. It was a testament to how well Matt knew the blond that he caught the exact moment Mello gave in—the barely noticeable weakening of the mouth, his shoulders slumping ever-so-slightly, the fire of defiance in emerald eyes dwindling into a tiny spark. Mello sighed, averting his gaze as he slumped back into the pillow bonelessly. "It's not… you. I'm not mad at you."

Matt deflated, easily slipping back into the role of worried best friend as the possessing fury drained slowly out of him as he righted his chair. "Then _who, _Mel?"

The boy in the hospital bed shrugged noncommittally. "Myself… those guys… the world, in general, I guess."

"While that's delightfully emo-tastic of you, Mello," Matt snarked, scooting closer to the bed in a supportive manner to take the bite from his words, "I think you have a couple years to go before the teenage angst phase kicks in. So, _why?_"

"Because—" Mello grit his teeth, twisting his fists in the bed sheets as he searched for the right words to explain what he could barely stomach admitting to himself, "because, I'm not _good_ enough. Because I'm _always _second. In everything! Near kicks my ass in grades and those bastards kicked my _literal_ ass. I can't—I just… no matter what I do, it's not good enough. I'm not strong enough. I don't deserve—"

"Mello!" Matt yelled, completely flabbergasted, jerking forward to rest his weight on his arms and shove his face a mere inch or so away from his friend's, "What the _hell, _man!? You think those thugs are better than you!?" Mello blinked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Matt mouthed wordlessly for a second before flailing into another rant, lunging to his feet and pacing back and forth in front of the bed. "L _found _them, Mello. He tracked them down, and when he did—Mel, you kicked their asses! You—_don't _scoff at me! For it being five to one, and all of them being bigger than you, it—shut up. Just 'cause you don't like how scrawny you are, doesn't make it untrue—you _won. _In context, they lost! And Near—well… who the hell cares!? Mel, you were chosen to succeed the best detective in the world. You think you're worthless just because _one_ guy happens to retain information better than you? If anything, you're better simply because you're willing to get off your ass and _do _things to get what you need. You're one of the smartest people in _the world._ Not for your age group, not in England, _in the world. _You think me, An, or Justin are gonna get it before you? Yeah, right! You're _not _worthless, Mello. You're more than good enough. You—you're my best friend and… I love you and… you're the coolest person I've ever met." He trailed off lamely, a light blush painting his cheeks at his anticlimactic ending.

Mello rolled the rant over his mind, staring out the window to give Matt time to recover from his less-than-manly confession. "L… went after them…?" he murmured after a minute, turning back to the redhead as he reclaimed his chair.

"Yeah," Matt replied just as quietly, glancing up to meet Mello's steady gaze, "He went all hardcore-super-detective about it. Some of their blood was mixed in with yours on your clothes… he tracked down their DNA and…" He swallowed. "It was kinda scary, Mel. I mean… I've never seen him that mad. And it wasn't the yelling or hitting type of mad, it was… silent, you could just _feel_ it. We thought he was gonna bring them in and use them for a torture lesson or something…." They were quiet for a moment, the silence creeping up their spines like a physical chill. "Think about _that_ for a second, Mello," Matt finally said, as deadly serious as Mello had ever seen him, "Near may have better grades, but L almost tortured someone over you. _L_. Y'know… totally-devoid-of-emotion-robot-whose-sole-fuel-is-sugar guy? People _love_ you, Mel. You think all those people sat in here while you were unconscious just because? You think they didn't have things they needed to do?"

Mello stared at the shiny gold Triforce Eagle emblazoned on the front of Matt's shirt silently, unsure of how to respond. He was saved by Madame Weir poking her head around the door of her office. "Matt, it's nearly time for dinner," she said simply, her face completely devoid of any indication that she may have heard Matt's heartfelt ranting.

He nodded, quietly getting to his feet and standing over Mello for a hesitant moment. The blond glanced up at him, clearing his throat as that familiar sneer—a third irritated, a third exasperated, and a third affectionate—he reserved only for Matt settled back over his features. Matt bit back a grin, half reaching out to his friend. "Mel—"

"Hug me, and I'll bitchslap you."

Matt laughed suddenly, the absurdity of the situation and of their relationship in general suddenly sinking into his conscious. He leaned down, grinning as Mello raised a threatening fist as he neared, and gently butted his forehead against the other boy's, carefully avoiding the bandaged stitches on his right temple.

Mello blinked in surprise, opening his mouth uncertainly. "Matt, I—"

"I'll come back later, yeah? Want half of my dessert? I think it's cheesecake or something."

* * *

"Matt, why does it look like your backpack exploded in my room?" Mello asked with a cocked eyebrow, glancing back at the redhead still trailing down the corridor from the direction of the infirmary.

"'s not your room," Matt replied, skirting around Mello to wander inside and flop onto his bed, "'s _our_ room." He picked up his Gameboy and flicked the power switch with no real intention of playing. Pretending to pay attention to the actually blank screen, he watched Mello out of the corner of his eye as the blond finally followed him into the room, squinting at him suspiciously.

"Since when?" he finally asked, kicking a shirt out of his way as he crossed to stand in front of the partially dismantled TV in the middle of the floor, scowling at it.

"Since I moved in," Matt said cryptically.

Mello pursed his lips in the other boy's direction, but didn't have the energy to drill Matt on his vague answers—just the trek from the infirmary to his bedroom had kicked his arse… he didn't even _want_ to think about what a full day of classes tomorrow was going to be like. He sat gingerly down in his desk chair, careful not to show any signs of weakness while Matt was watching him—discreetly, or so he thought. Resting his elbow on the edge of the desk, he eased himself back into the chair, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his squatter.

Matt had been acting strange for as long as he had been conscious. Granted, he had expected the redhead to be at his side for a large quantity of his free time, but certainly not _all _of it; afterall, there was the other best friend to factor in. But that was just it, wasn't it? Matt hadn't even mentioned Near, except for in his tangent about Mello's worth, and his commentary on the boy then certainly hadn't been very flattering. And now this? Suddenly, he was sharing Mello's room? And permanently, it would seem. He'd even hauled in that bloody _Smash Brothers _poster—that meant he was serious. Not that he was complaining, of course. This just meant that he was somehow, inexplicably more important than Near. As it should be. Whatever had happened between Matt and the other boy… he _would_ work it out. Just not right now… right now he was better, and that was all that was important.

"I suppose it's alright," Mello said casually, glancing around the formerly empty half of the room, "We'll have to set some ground rules, of course." Matt cocked an eyebrow at him, hiding his grin as Mello made a show of acting the alpha, having to approve his subordinate's every move. "One: the Gameboy is always on mute. Always. Two: fucking clean up after yourself. I won't go tripping over your stupid Pokemon plushies in the middle of the night on the way to the loo—"

"I got rid of those years ago, Mel!" Matt protested, his cheeks flaming.

"Three," Mello continued, not even bothering to acknowledge his new roommate's words, "don't bother me when I'm studying. Four—"

"I get it, Mello. These are all the same rules from before for me just _being _in your room. I think I know them by now." Matt rolled his eyes.

Mello bristled at the interruption, but couldn't quite find it in himself to correct the younger boy. He stifled a yawn instead, rising from the chair and staggering over to his bed. "Wake me up and I shank you," he warned, before burrowing himself into his pillow as Matt grinned at his back in a satisfied manner.

* * *

Matt waved absently as Justin vanished around the doorframe, before glancing up at Mello through the fringe of his bangs. The blond sat on the edge of his bed, the medication the older boy had just dropped off forgotten at his side as he stared fixedly at the point where Justin's black curls had disapeared around the doorframe.

The redhead frowned, pausing his game as he turned his full attention to his distracted roommate. Mello had often been distracted in the past week. And Matt had recently noted that it was at its most obvious around the eldest of L's heirs. Even during one of the detective's lectures, he had often glanced over at his friend to find the blond staring off into space, his eyes usually focused somewhere beyond Justin's right ear. Most likely, the older boy owed him money or something, but maybe... it was something else.

He shifted, setting the handheld down as he settled himself into a more comfortable position directly facing the other boy across the room. "Hey, Mel?" he tried cautiously.

"Mm?" was the absent reply.

"You okay?"

"Huh?" Mello glanced at him in confusion, "What? Oh… my wrist was hurting a bit this morning… so Madame Weir…" he trailed off, groping for the small plastic bag of meds at his side and jangling it in Matt's direction emphatically.

"Not that, ya nit," Matt said exasperatedly, drawing his legs up to his chest as Mello shifted uncomfortably, "_Best mate_, remember? My Spidey senses are tingling. And by 'Spidey,' I mean… oh, you get it. What's up with you, man?"

Mello averted his gaze, drilling holes into the back of Matt's nearly repaired TV set as he contemplated his roommate's query. What's up, indeed. Except how, exactly, do you go about telling your best friend that you think you might actually be a flaming gay? He sighed. He hadn't quite come to terms with it, yet. Acknowledged the truth of it, accepted the fact…? Yeah, sure. Didn't mean he had to _like_ it. Uneasy, he wrenched open the drawer of his bedside table and snatched out a chocolate bar.

"Mel…?" Matt pressed, worried as the older boy displayed obvious signs of disquiet.

"What're your thoughts on homosexuality?"

The redhead blinked, taken aback at Mello's sudden determination as the blond head whipped up to stare him straight in the eye. "Um… huh?" he replied eloquently.

"_How_ do you _feel_ about _gays_?" Mello pressed, obviously annoyed at his lack of comprehension.

"Well, uh…" Matt rubbed at his ear uncomfortably, trying to decide whether his friend was serious or just using a rather effective diversionary tactic… very efficient, indeed… he was certainly thrown for a loop. "I… dunno?"

"It's weird, right?" Mello insisted, clambering suddenly to his feet and pacing the length of their room in irritation, "I mean… it's even a bit _narcissistic_, being attracted to the same gender. Like taking your own body and pasting a new head on. It's just—"

"Whoa, whoa!" Matt yelped, holding up his hands in surrender, "Hold on, Mel. _Dude_. Calm down. What brought this on? You tryin' to distract me, or something? I wanna know why you've been acting weird around Just—oh. Oh!" Cerulean eyes widened as Mello paused, staring at him with that 'you really _are_ a flaming imbecile, aren't you?' look. "Oh." Matt swallowed. "So… you, ah… erm… you—Justin…?" he tried weakly.

"See?" Mello sighed, collapsing thoughtlessly back onto the bed and wincing as the movement jostled his healing sternum, "It's weird. It's wrong. _I'm… _wrong." He buried his face in his hands, looking more distraught than Matt had seen him in—well, _ever_.

"No, no!" Matt cried, scurrying over to perch next to the blond, his hand hovering awkwardly over his friend's shoulder, "It's… um… there's nothing _wrong_ with it—_you!_ There's nothing wrong with you, Mel. Er…" He glanced about the room desperately, searching for a way to console the other boy. "I mean… it's _Justin_, right!? He's… dude, he's hot. I mean, even I can see that. Maybe, it's just a phase… right? He'd make anyone quest—"

"It's _not_ just a phase, Matt!" Mello snarled, glaring up at him furiously, "My first crush _ever_ was fucking _L!"_

Matt couldn't help the clipped snort of amusement that broke past his serious listening face at that. "L? Well, that's not saying much, Mel. I mean, L…" He waggled his hand uncertainly, trying to communicate his thoughts without words, "L doesn't count. I have this theory that he has mutant pheromones. They're impossible to resist. Seriously, everyone and their caretaker've had a crush on L. It's _L."_

Mello blinked at him, hardly able to understand the redhead's humor in the midst of such a serious problem. He turned back to studying his hands now that the hysteria had subsided somewhat. At least Matt hadn't bolted from the room screaming bloody murder about him being a fag or anything. That was a definite step in the right direction.

"Um…" Mello glanced up as Matt scratched at his jaw awkwardly. "You've… never had a crush on _me_, have you?"

The blond scowled, elbowing his friend forcefully in the side.

"Ow! Cripes, it was just a question! Youch…." He rubbed at his ribs gingerly, glaring balefully at the older boy. "And besides, I'm off limits right now. Stella asked me out, and we're… going—well, I guess we're doing _something _on Saturday. I mean, we can't really _go_ anywhere 'cause—"

"Matt."

"Oh, right. Justin." Matt pursed his lips pityingly. "Mel, I don't think he's—"

"I _know _he's not gay, Matt." Mello rolled his eyes.

"Okay, good," the redhead sighed in relief, slouching back into the wall, "'cause I think he and Anya have… a thing…"

Mello flopped more carefully back onto his pillow, reflecting Matt's ease gratefully. "Well, not yet, anyway. But I bet you they'll stop mucking about within the month. So—"

"Wanna?"

Mello's brows furrowed in confusion and he glanced at the redhead down the length of his chest. "What?"

"Wanna bet? I've got five quid says they're together in two weeks."

"_Matt!"_

Matt recoiled. "Sorry! Sorry! You're a poof! It's fine, whatever! I like you anyway, you're a friggin' idiot for even thinking it'd affect our friendship. So, don't inflict bodily harm to me or any of my games!"

**To be continued.**

_Six muffins to whoever guesses the author of Mello's comic. My favorite author! Also, I just noticed that Mello's gay confession scene is very similar to Willow's gay confession scene in Buffy... o.O Weird.  
_

_Mm. That ending isn't nearly as good as I had planned. But I'm tired and need a shower, so that's what you're getting. Sorry. Bwaha! Jessamine is the random love interest! Heh. Awesome. And Matty dates girls! Ew, vaginas! WTF is wrong with you, Mail Jeevas…? Anyhoo. Yeah .'s a trade off? Excessive angst last chapter equals load of stupidity this chapter…? Huzzah for possibly OOC Mello! _

_Reviews!_

**thinlimitation: **Hope this wasn't the exact opposite of what you were waiting for… (repents) Sorry. Stupid Near, indeed. Thanks for the review, yo! **The Chaos Apple: **You should! Worked wonders for me. I love that you pelvic-thrusted; that's just brilliant. That should be the automatic response to anything Matt-related. And I figure there had to be _something_ to drive Near into his frozen little hermit shell… mayhap the loss of a best friend…? Anyhoo… thanks for the review, hope you didn't hate this chapter too much! **Hair-Noodles: **Aw, sad day. I hope you get the chance soon! It's a pretty good read. Glad Matt was in character… now I just have to worry about Mel being OOC in _this_ chapter. Ugh. **mirai: **Quite. I hate Near. Anyway, thanks for the review! I really appreciate it! **Trinny Dream: **Glad to hear it! And I really liked the Near scene, too. That was one of the scenes that got lost on my old laptop, but I like this version better, so perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Plus, I reeeeeeeeeally like my new lappy. Hee. Thanks for the review! Hope this chapter was decent enough to keep you reading! **aya: **Yay! Mm. No amnesia here… maybe later. Lawl. The _world_ would be heartbroken. And you're fine disliking Near, he'll never be a protagonist in this story, so you never need to like him. Thanks for reviewing! I always love your reviews! **camikaza: **Woot, a kindred spirit! Stupid Near! Hatred. I totally agree, Matt's situation sucked… poor thing. Thanks for reading! **AXENATOR: **On a side note, when typing your name, I unconsciously wrote "AXENATION," which I now think is the coolest word ever. Anyway. Lol! That would be awesome! I can totally picture Matty going all Sherlock Holmes on Near. And this IS a soap opera! I can't believe you haven't noticed it! Lol. You should buy Tivo anyway… it makes life easier. Princess Bride FTW! One of my all-time favorite movies. I'm bad with the cliffhangers… sorry. Not this time, though! And I love affectionate!L more than anything in the world. My L will always be affectionate toward his heirs. OMG, look a distraction! (lol) **Fool4Sasuke33: **Matt is love. I would pay you to kick Near in the shin. It'd be awesome! And haha, lo and behold! Nine whole chapters! Who'da thought!? Anyhoo… thanks so much for the review, it means so much. I hope this chapter was okay! **Never.To.Late: **'s but a plot device, don't worry. From now on, Matt will always be there when Mello wakes from near-comas. Cross my heart. And he didn't think it would make Matt _like_him, per say… so much as make _Mello _hate _Matt, _and thus win Matt over by default. Does that make sense…? I've been known to be very nonsensical. And girls _are_ hard to understand… but so are boys. I don't get either! Haha. Thanks for the review! **Melii Aile: **Near was a douche. Yup, yup. Thanks for the review! It makes my day to get a review alert! **momijikk: **It frightens me that I can now type your name with a reference. Lol! I think L just has a hair obsession… oh, L. You're so strange. But not as weird as Light. My Light!Sim (yeah… don't judge me) is soooooooo obsessed with L. L'll be in the shower and Light'll be all "I have this sudden urge to go clean the shower… what!? Naked L!? How'd that get there!?" And he goes and "views" the artwork in L's room while he sleeps. It's creepy. Um. Anyway… rant over! Thanks for the review!! Much appreciated, as usual! **Demon Hiei's Girl: **That's a long sitting! But, wow, I'm glad you liked it! I love that Near's my antagonist. Heheheh. I'm afraid I must disappoint you this chapter in the getting better department… maybe next time…? Hmm. Thanks for the review! **Raea.In.Eden: **lol, it's fine! I'm totally okay with the multiple reviews! Makes me feel loved, y'know? I'm glad you read it, too. And the pimping! Haha, I love it! Thanks so much! It doesn't deserve all that, but I'll take what I can get! Hope this chapter wasn't too disappointing! **Carrot The LuvMachine: **Well, hallo. Realizing that I'd been PMing you right before I started working on this actually makes me see how fast I dished this out. Wow. Haha, I wouldn't be surprised if there _was_ Potter influence… it was a main obsession of mine for many a year, and the Marauders still are. And worry not! The romance seeds will be planted soon! Hope you can forgive the general crappiness of the chapter. All the feedback you've given (for everything) is much appreciated! I hope it can continue!

_…DUDE. You guys are the best things since… chocolate._

_Bwoff, yos._


	11. XI

**_'ello Loves!_**_ As usual, sorry I suck at updating… but if you're not used to it, by now… I s'pose you will be soon. So, just one main point to cover, this author's note; I feel the end drawing nea— (…ew, Near.) **nigh! **I don't think Part One's gonna extend past chapter fifteen… if it even gets that far. There're really only a few more plot points to get through before we fast forward a few years. So, three, maybe four more chapters… then a bit of a break, just 'cause I'm a lazy git, then we get to the Kira arc! Woot!_

**_Disclaimer: _**_Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.XI.**

Matt lost the bet. Exactly two weeks and one day after Mello finally caved and shook on it, Justin leaned over the spread of Christmas Hols homework on the floor between them and laid a quick, chaste kiss on Anya's lips. As the two—along with Abigail, of course—had been camped out in Mello's and Matt's room for the afternoon, it was hardly surprising when everything went silent as the brunet flushed red beneath four very surprised stares—though no one seemed quite as surprised as Justin himself. After a moment, Anya blinked, smiled shyly, and kissed him back. Neither of them ever _did _find out exactly why Mello lunged to his feet with a triumphant pump of his fist, before turning to smile smugly at Matt as the redhead cursed and tossed the TV remote onto his bed in irritation. And if—after the high of winning the bet had died down—Mello seemed anything less than happy for the new couple, no one but Matt ever really noticed.

Mello put his five quid toward a very good cause: buying a magazine of questionable—and undeniably gay—content over the internet, seemingly for the sole purpose of seeing Matt squirm when it was strategically left lying about. Whether he actually read the thing was up for debate, but Matt was just pleased that his friend had accepted himself… well, at least enough to be flaunting it for a laugh.

L had stayed through New Year's before packing off for the States with much more laments and whining than usual—seeing as he had, feeling particularly generous this year, set up a monthly allowance of forty pounds for each and every orphan at the House as a Christmas present. As he was absently wrapping an obnoxiously green and blue scarf around his neck and Watari was disappearing out the door with the last suitcase, he gave his protégés very strict instructions not to cause anymore undue mayhem—i.e. sneaking out at odd hours, engaging older, bulkier, or smellier children in combat, attempting to hack Scotland Yard's database, or giving Roger _another_ ulcer… before tottering off to the car, thumb in mouth.

Classes began again in mid-January, and the world settled back into its normal routine. Near continued to outscore Mello by a few measely points, Matt got dumped for being an "insensitive git who only cared about his _stupid_ friends," there was a rather spectacular prank involving cherry bombs in the boys' bathroom—reportedly Abigail's idea, though it was never proven—that went awry and resulted in Mello's eyebrows being singed off. Roger developed an ulcer.

On February first, L—officially, at any rate—earned himself a permanent standing in Matt's "Top Three Friggin' Coolest People on the Face of the Whole Bloody Planet… and That's Sayin' Something" along with Mello and Spike Spiegel (the Doctor wasn't on it, as, understandably, he is not human. Please see Matt's "Top Three Friggin' Coolest People in the Whole Wide Universe… and That's _Really _Sayin' Something.") when a plainly wrapped package postmarked from New York revealed itself to be a brand new Playstation 2 for his own, personal use… to accompany his newly repaired TV.

Mello smirked as the redhead's voice cracked unflatteringly in the midst of composing his very exuberant thank you email, and calmly set a second package, considerably smaller, on the edge of his roommate's desk. Matt clicked Send rather overzealously and pounced on Mello's present, ripping into it and emitting another ear-piercing shriek of delight when the paper slid away to reveal a copy of _Final Fantasy X. _

He was on his feet in a flash, bouncing excitedly toward Mello with his arms thrown wide, before he caught himself and they both froze awkwardly. Matt coughed, running a hand through his hair as he murmured an uncomfortable "thanks, Mel," and the blond turned toward his bed, schooling his features to hide the slight twinge of pain that had flashed across his face when the redhead refused to touch him. Matt plopped down on the floor in front of the television, busying himself with setting the Playstation up and attempting to ignore his silent companion as the blond balled himself into the corner of his bed with the copy of _Good Omens _that had been a part of L's birthday present.

* * *

A week later, Mello sat curled in the windowseat, his notes laying forgotten at his feet as he stared silently out the window, forehead resting against the cool glass. Matt glanced up from his half-finished essay, dropping his pencil onto the desk distractedly as he caught sight on the blond's melancholy reflection. He licked his lips absently, watching as listless emerald eyes finally seemed to focus. His brows furrowed questioningly.

"Hey, Matt." He jolted, notebook and pencil skittering off the table and dropping to the floor. Justin grimaced guiltily, ducking down to gather the essay back together. "Sorry about that, didn't mean to startle you."

"'s okay," Matt replied quickly, leaning down to grab his pencil as the older boy gently deposited the rest of his work back on the table in front of him, before sinking gratefully into the seat beside the redhead. "I'm beat," the brunet murmured, allowing his head to loll over the back of the chair and rubbing wearily at his eyes.

Matt gave a small, sympathetic nod, though he knew Justin wouldn't see it as cerulean eyes darted back to glance at his best friend in the windowseat, his lips pursing sadly as he watched Mello's surreptitious gaze longingly trace Justin's reflection in the window as the older boy finally sat up fully, reaching down to heft his bookbag onto the table and retrieve his own homework.

"You okay, Mel?" Matt asked quietly, snapping the blond boy out of his daze. Justin glanced up, following the redhead's gaze to the window in surprise.

"Hi, Mello. I didn't see you there," he said, giving a hopeful, friendly smile in an attempt to smother the tension that seemed to have fallen over them the last few weeks.

To his credit, Mello managed to blink the deer-caught-in-headlights look off his face rather quickly, jerking his attention to the textbook in his lap and shaking his hair loose to hide his face more efficiently. "Hi," he replied stiffly, giving the act of marking his page far more concentration than it had any real right to.

Matt barely had time to notice Justin's face contorting sadly, before Mello was up and stalking past. "I need chocolate," he growled pointedly when he came parallel to their table, and the redhead took that as his cue to jump up and scramble after his distraught friend, casting a pitying glance at Justin over his shoulder.

"Y'know, Mel," he finally said, exasperated, two hallways later, "being a jerk to him isn't going to make you stop liking him."

Mello stopped, almost seeming to deflate as he turned to give his friend a sharp glare that completely contradicted his defeated body language. Matt cocked an eyebrow at the smaller boy's rebellious façade, crossing his arms and waiting for him to speak. Forest green eyes met his own evenly, looking for a hundred things at once—acceptance, support, answers, things Matt knew Mello would always find, and things he wasn't entirely sure he could give the other boy.

A long second passed, before the blond turned on his heel and continued down the hall. Matt sighed, falling in beside him. "If you're so against it," he finally ventured after a moment, "Why _do _you like him?"

Mello's sure pace faltered at that, and he let loose a breath neither had noticed him holding. "He…" the blond trailed off, tilting his head back contemplatively to watch the ceiling tiles as they slid by, "He was the one there when I woke up, y'know…?" He either didn't notice or chose to ignore the guilty way Matt averted his gaze at that fact. "I mean, I opened my eyes and he was right there. And his eyes… his face… he—the—" He slowed to a halt, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts, before glancing up to meet Matt's curious gaze. "It was dark," he murmured, "So dark. There was nothing there… just the darkness. I didn't dream… or if I did… there was nothing. Unconsciousness… oblivion, whatever the hell you want to call it. And then, he was suddenly there. Helping me… pulling me back—it's… hard to put into words, y'know? But… the sight of it—_him_… he… was beautiful."

Matt cleared his throat uncertainly, his eyes darting away from the blond's face, unused to that tone of voice… the softness reflected in jade eyes unfamiliar and mildly terrifying. He gave a shuddering, forced laugh, making himself meet Mello's gaze again. "Guess it was a good thing _I _wasn't the one there, huh? That would've been all _sorts_ of awkward!" he joked uncomfortably.

Mello's lips twisted into a half smirk that didn't reach his eyes as the two turned and continued down the corridor toward the kitchen without a word.

* * *

It took another week and a half of Mello's veiled and not-so-veiled prodding about Matt's and Near's apparent falling out for it all to finally hit the fan.

"You wanna know, Mello!?" Matt—tired, ache-y, disgruntled, and frustrated—finally exploded, rounding on the startled blond frozen in the doorway of their room, bookbag hanging limply from his hand, "Fine! Since you have to know _everything _about fucking _everyone, _I'll tell you! It was about you! Yeah! Of bloody _course _it was! 'Cause everything's about you!" He stormed toward the other boy, stopping only when he was snarling an inch or so away from his face. "Wonderful, perfect,_ second place _Mello. L fauns over you, Roger indulges you, Near's obsessed with you, I'm your lap dog… and… you—you took away my best friend! Near sent you out there! He's the reason you were in the infirmary, he's the reason you have that scar on your forehead—the one you're trying to hide with your bangs! _He's_ the reason you still limp when you think no one's looking! _You_ turned him into a cold, heartless bastard, and I couldn't even get mad at you for it 'cause you almost died!"

The blond's eyes widened in shock as Matt whirled furiously, gesturing wildly as he stormed over to square off with his roommate from the far wall, seemingly unable to stop now that the dam was broken. "I've been patient, Mello! I've stood by you, no matter what! Through everything! The big stuff and the stupid little things that only you care about! Oh, woe is me! I'm Mello, I'm number two! I'm scrawny and blond… oh, and I'm _gay! _I'm a freak, no one likes me! My parents are dead, I'm the only orphan in the whole _world_, so no one cares… I'm the only person alive who knows what it's like to really hurt! Well, boo fucking _hoo!" _Matt glared at the still figure in the doorway, his shoulders still heaving. "Would it _kill_ you to think about someone… _anyone_ besides yourself for once in your pathetic life!?"

And then, just like that, it was over and silence fell.

Mello glanced up slowly, emerald eyes piercing and unreadable through a fringe of gold, meeting the slowly widening, shocked cerulean gaze across the room. Never looking away from Matt's stricken face, the blond let his bookbag slip to the floor with an unnaturally loud thump, before turning and walking almost casually back out into the hallway, calmly closing the door behind him.

Matt stared, frozen, as the door handle slowly clicked into place. He blinked, swallowing as he turned slowly, numbly toward his bed, catching sight of his pale reflection in the mirror over Mello's dresser. Had that really been _him? _Where had all that come from…? He fell to sit on the edge of his mattress, burying his face in his hands. Sure… Mello could be a jerk, but surely he didn't deserve—Matt had just been so on edge lately… so much had been going on….

"Bloody hell," he whispered to himself, distraught sapphire eyes staring at a patch of carpet dimly illuminated by cold, late winter sunlight through his fingers, "What've I done?"

It was a long night. He couldn't find Mello in any of the boy's usual haunts, the blond never made an appearance at dinner, and no one had really seen him since classes had ended. Anya made a good point by suggesting that, if he was as upset as Matt said, he may have barricaded himself in L's quarters, and that, if he really _was _that upset, perhaps Matt should leave him to himself for a while. Matt responded with a few choice words that earned him a rather impressive and uncharacteristically loud reprimand from Justin, and stalked off, stewing. Just because she was right didn't mean he had to like it. He'd apologize to her later. Finally, when it seemed that Mello was not going to reveal himself any time soon, Matt pilfered a box of biscuits from the kitchen and retreated to his bed to watch a marathon of third season _Buffy _reruns in the dark.

Three quarters of the way through the box and in the midst of a rather moving speech having something to do with a parasol, the door swung back on its hinges. There was a short flash of gold backlit by the hall light, before the door shut once more and the room was bathed only in the harsh glow of the TV. Matt blinked, attempting to adjust his eyes as Mello ghosted past on his way to his side of the room, stripping off his shirt before collapsing wordlessly onto his bed, not even bothering to get under the covers as he rolled to face the wall.

Matt swallowed, a pang of guilt shooting up his spine as the glinting light from the television fleetingly illuminated a bony back and the long, thin, still-unexplained line of new scar tissue working its way down a sharp shoulder blade. He glanced down guiltily. Silence reigned for a few long minutes before, finally, Mello shivered ever-so-slightly and the spell was broken. Matt got to his feet, switching the TV off as he yanked his own nondescript comforter off his bed and headed for Mello's. The blond got no warning before the younger boy collapsed onto the mattress just behind him, tangling the both of them up in the large blanket.

"Get off," he growled, squirming away from the warm body pressed against his back.

"No," Matt replied simply, lunging after him and wrapping his arms firmly around the smaller boy's abdomen, pinning him against his chest, "You're mad at me."

"That's the gist of it, _yeah_." Mello continued his struggle, partially kicking off the comforter in his efforts. "Get off me, Matt. Aren't you afraid you'll get gay all over you?"

Matt sighed guiltily. So he _had _noticed.

Mello seemed to read his mind. "I'm not stupid. You refuse to come within a foot of my person. Don't do this to prove a point. Get the hell away from me."

The redhead made no reply for a moment, choosing instead to simply hug the other boy closer, burying his face in the hair at the nape of Mello's neck. Mello froze, blinking in a mixture of shock, confusion, and lingering rage as Matt's warm breath puffed across his throat.

"'m sorry, Mel," the younger boy murmured, "'m sorry for all of it. For being a fucktard about the gay thing… for what I said. I didn't mean it… any of it. You know I didn't." He paused as the last of Mello's struggles finally subsided and he went limp and silent in Matt's arms, neither refusing nor returning his friend's touch. The bigger boy swallowed, collecting his thoughts for a moment. "I've tried… I tried to tell myself that… if it had been the other way 'round… y'know, with _Near_ in the infirmary and _you _getting all gloat-y about it, that I would've been furious at you… done the same thing… but—I… somehow, I don't think I could. It'd be different. 'Cause, you 'n' me are… different from… me 'n' Near. I dunno, it's just…" He sighed, twisting to stare up at the ceiling without jostling the other boy. "_You_ need me. He never did. And I—oh, never mind. I just never should've said those things. '_specially_ about your parents. I don't know what happened, and I shouldn't've—"

Mello shifted. The redhead froze, holding his breath as the other boy disentangled himself, wondering whether he'd said the wrong thing, too much, maybe… and Mello was going to leave again. But the blond simply rolled over to face him, pressing himself back into the bundle of comforter and meeting Matt's steady gaze across the short distance between them.

"My parents…" Matt stared disbelievingly as Mello paused, contemplative for a short instant. Was he really going to…? "My father was an underboss in the Tambov Gang." At the redhead's blank stare, he clarified with an exasperated sigh. "—the Russian mafia." Cerulean eyes widened and Mello took a shuddery breath. "He wasn't very powerful, but… still respected. People were still scared of him. He never did like me much. Said I was too much of a girl… never _could_ knock my mother up with the heir he really wanted…. Anyway. The basic idea is that I grew up in the rich part of town, with a doting mother and all the toys and chocolate I could ever want… watching my criminal, asshole father doing drug and weapons deal out of the alley next to our house."

Matt opened his mouth, though he wasn't really sure what to say. He was thankful when Mello gave him the look the clearly stated he wasn't ready for his friend to say anything—not yet.

"So, one day, I got home from school—everything was normal, mind you. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Father had had a deal the night before—one of the more important ones, which means it was one of the more drunken ones… I was expecting him to still be passed out in his study or something. So, I went to their room to find Mother. I opened the door and… it was dark, the curtains were still closed. That was strange… she always drew the curtains in the morning. I went to open them, thinking she might be sick again... and I—ran into something. I couldn't really see, but… it—it was my father." He swallowed, rolling onto his back, as though he couldn't face Matt as he continued the story. "He was lying face-down… the blood—h-he'd… he'd been dead for hours, and then I looked up and—" He broke off, closing his eyes for a moment to recompose himself. "The coroner said it was a murder-suicide; that Father had shot her in a fit of drunken rage, and then probably turned the pistol on himself. But…" He met Matt's shocked, pitying gaze wildly. "They were wrong. It was all wrong. The gun… Father kept all of his guns locked in a cabinet on the first floor… and it was still locked, the key was still in the bedside table drawer… the location and angle of the entry wound—why would he shoot himself in the base of the skull? And Mother… I think—she died _second_. They killed her _after_ Father."

Matt pursed his lips, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his friend's quaking shoulder.

"No one believed me. The Gang got away clean. The case was closed, and I was shipped off. But—Matt, I—"

"I believe you, Mel," the redhead murmured comfortingly, meeting Mello's wide-eyed, frantic stare. "I believe you. I'm sorry." He pulled the other boy across the small gulf of mattress between them, crushing his friend into his chest as he waited for the tears he knew wouldn't come—Mello never cried. "I'm so sorry."

"But you know what it's like," Mello murmured after a short eternity of quiet, lifting his head off the other boy's shoulder and looking up into too-bright sapphire eyes, "You lost them, too."

Matt cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting away from the blond. Mello propped himself up on his elbow, frowning at the back of Matt's silent crimson head. "Matt."

"My parents are still alive. At least, I think they are—were, last time I heard." He sighed, practically feeling Mello's wide emerald eyes boring into the base of his skull… like the bullet that had killed the boy's father. "They just… didn't want me."

"_What!?"_ Mello shot up, glaring down at Matt. "What do you _mean _they 'didn't want you?!'" he growled dangerously.

"Well what do you _think_ I mean, Mello?" the redhead snapped in irritation, "They didn't care! Never _wanted_ me! My first memory is of my mother telling me that it was my fault he was gone! That if it hadn't been for me, he never would have left her and gone back to Italy. That if the fucking _condom _hadn't broken then they'd still be happy! Oh, she managed for a few years. I was four when she finally dumped me in some piece-of-shit orphanage in Dublin." He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head, "I really hope she found him again, y'know? That she flew to Venice and tracked him down and now they're living the blissful child-free-happily-ever-after they always wanted. But something tells me that I probably have a bastard brother or dozen in some _other _piece-of-shit orphanage in Belfast or something!"

Mello mouthed wordlessly, furiously, looking like a scrawny, pale goldfish in the moonlight seeping through the window. "But—why haven't you… tracked them down? Shown them that—"

"What? What could I have that they would possibly want? My mother liked her men tall, dark, and reeking of bourbon. Do I look like any of those to you?"

The blond turned away for a moment, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Matt. I just—"

"It… hurt, Mel," Matt replied softly, reaching out plaintively, not really expecting a response, "'course it did. But I'm over it. I'm better off than I ever thought I would be."

Mello met his gaze searchingly, emerald eyes shining with an emotion Matt had never found himself on the receiving end of—that he was unsure had ever appeared there at all, and brushed the back of the other boy's trembling hand with gentle fingertips. Matt jumped, startled as Mello's hand slithered up his own to grasp his wrist firmly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, allowing Mello's warm grip on Matt's arm to say all the things they were both far too masculine and tough to ever voice aloud.

Finally, Matt laughed, a sharp, uncertain sound that broke the silence like the crack of whip. "Blimey. When'd we get so… in tune with our emotions_?"_

Mello's mouth stretched across his teeth in a grin that seemed more of a grimace in the dim light. "Well… I'm a poofter, and you've been nose-deep in hormones ever since your balls started dropping."

**To be continued.**

_Hmmm. Angst and character development, anyone? So. Not much progress this chapter, but we're getting there. The next couple installments'll start getting pretty heavy. And by "heavy," what I really mean is "sexual tension you could cut with a knife." HaHA!_

**_To the reviews!_**

**aya: **Haha! What were you revising?? Hope I didn't distract you from your studies, though… (that last part was total bullocks, of course. I've never put much stock in studying. Lame.) I loved their gay talk, too. It was so… sudden and awkward and… heh. And yay! You get muffins. State your flavor. Hope you liked this chapter! **Carrot The LuvMachine: **Hullo, there. I'm not entirely sure what to say, since we've already thoroughly discussed your review and its contents. Lawl. So, erm… boosh…? Damn, I'm sorry! I'm drawing a blank. Um. Hope you liked it, 'kay, bye! (Flees) **camikaza: **Well, I'm glad _someone _likes Justin! Man, everyone's all flipping out that Matt wasn't Mello's first love. Let's say he's the _true _love and call it even! And, weird, I never really planned for Mel to find out that way… or… that soon. But, I think it works. I just hope it works for that thing in the far future that's mysteriously connected to it… hmm. Thanks for the review! Hope you liked this one! **The Chaos Apple: **Hello, hello! I am Kira of the fanfiction. Fear me, rawr! Um. I'm sleep-deprived… pay me no mind. It wasn't so much… _working_ withas swapping ideas with. She was the wall that I bounced my plot balls (…does that sound dirty to you?) off of. L totally has mutant pheromones. It is now fact. 'cause I say so. And I keep meaning to read Mercy Rule, but get distracted. I still have to read Poison Apple, too. Oi. My Too Read list is far too long…. Um. Yay, chapter 11! **Trinny Dream: **I scrolled over that part while proofreading (I do it multiple times even after I post it, 'cause I'm a dunce and miss lots of stuff the first few times. Ugh.) and giggled after I read your review. Glad you liked it! Thanks for the review, as always, and hope you liked this chapter! **AXENATION: **('cause I'ma call you that now. Hee.) Thank you for noticing! That was my chosen detail of the chapter (aka the one I love more than… apples or something) and you're the only one who seemed to notice it! I love the mental image, too. Woot. And don't worry. Justin is hot. Think a teenage Mohinder from _Heroes. _Accent and all. YUM. Well, I'm okay with the OC thing as long as it's not a Mary-Sue. Which Jessamine's not, obviously. And don't worry, the beating will commence shortly. Also, that mini-rant about love confessions was the best thing I ever read. I almost died. "Oh you flatter me!" I giggled so much. So, anyhoo… thanks for reading! I always love your reviews, rambling or otherwise! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. **thinlimitation: **Yay, I made your day! Yay! I'm glad I made you laugh. My balance between comedy and angst is very warped for some reason… I can't seem to tell the difference sometimes. Hmm. Weird. I had to throw in the Buffy ref, 'cause now I'm on a Buffy kick. Hee. But! Thanks for the review, I always appreciate and enjoy your comments! Woot! **Melii Aile: **lol, thanks! And of course Mel couldn't tell Matty the truth. Then there'd be no story. XD Thanks for the review! Hope you liked this chapter! **BlakValentyne-U69: **I'm glad the dialogue made sense. I have a tendency to ramble while writing, so I'm usually very worried about my really dialogue-heavy chapter. Like this one. Yipe. But, anyhoo! Nope, no cliffy. Maybe next time, I dunno. Woot. **Loverly Lawliet: **…I? Win teh homos? OMFG. Best thing evarz. Lol! Thanks so much for the review, it made me giggle like no other! **youreverlastinglight: **Hallo! I haven't virtually seen you in forever! I'm very glad you're back, I missed your reviews! Hope you continue to enjoy! **Demon Hiei's Girl: **Of course Matty's hotter. God, he's… MATT. I think that every Matt I meet now is just automatically a little hotter than they would have been on their own. Just 'cause he was a Matt. Lol. Sad, but I honestly think it's true. Thanks for the review! Hope you aren't too disappointed. **Kaze Kimizu: **I hate Near, too. I'm all for the club. We should start one. I know lots of people who'd join. Mello ftw! I'm glad you approve of my Mello. That makes me happy. I hope you continue to like it! **The life of a teenage racoon: **Your name still makes me laugh. Heh. I'm glad you liked it! And therefore hope you go on liking it! Thanks for the reviews!! **momijikk:** Well, y'see, when I type your name, I get all distracted by all the dots from the "iji" and forget what I'm saying. (Told you, attention span of a gold fish) So the fact that I can type it without getting distracted is… kinda scary! But, in a good way. An _all_ my Sims are strange. I didn't save this particular game, for obvious reasons, but my Near!Sim once died of starvation. In a kitchen. While serving everyone _else _food. But then—best and most in character thing ever—Mello walked up, glanced around, cheered, and congratulated Death. I almost died!! Woot! Anyhoo! Thanks for the review, always love 'em!!

_LOVE. All of you. Oh-so-much. Thank you!!_

_…bwoff!_


	12. XII

_**Yo. **__So I don't have much of an excuse for the lateness this time. Distracted, as usual. I mean, I would very firmly tell myself that I was damn well going to sit down and actually write… then read web comics for hours. I suck, I know. Also, I've developed a strange obsession with _Kingdom Hearts. _One of my friends has been playing it and talking about it __**nonstop **__and then finally had me watch some cosplay spoof. Friggin' KH. You've taken over my… soul, or something. Damnit, how can I fangirl over something I've never actually played!? Anyway! Right! Chapter Twelve! Aren't y'all excited!? It's almost done! Woot!_

_Defenesized, bi-atch! …Respect._

_**Disclaimer: **__Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.XII.**

"Linda says that you have tragic, unrequited boy love for Near," thirteen-year-old Matt sang as he waltzed into their room, mischief glinting in sapphire eyes.

"Linda has shit for brains," Mello replied without missing a beat, not even bothering to glance up as he carefully turned the page.

Matt laughed, collapsing bonelessly onto his roommate's bed and allowing his head to loll over the edge of the mattress as he studied the blond. Mello barely seemed to have even noticed his presence beyond the obligatory _I-fucking-_hate_-Near-why-don't-people-_get_-that?_ retort; he was perched rigidly on the very edge of his chair, his nose hovering a mere several inches over the case files from the Manhattan murders L had brought to a close the month before. Matt frowned slightly, minute details about his friend's appearance that he hadn't noticed at first glance starting to jump out at him.

The honey-blond hair tied in a messy knot at the base of Mello's neck had traded its usual healthy shine for the more off-putting gloss that comes with several days without introduction to a shower; he was pale—not fashionably pale, but _worrisome_ pale, like he was going to have to develop sonar because he hadn't set foot in natural light for so long; his wrinkled shirt—from the day _before_ the day before yesterday—was so big on him it wouldn't be surprising if the blond had an entire refrigerator of chocolate stashed in there… when had he lost all that weight…? The bags under his eyes, though… they'd gotten so dark, Matt was sure even L would be more than a little perturbed by the sight of them.

"Mel," the redhead murmured, his brows furrowing. The older boy waved him off testily, lunging anxiously for a packet that had been about to slide off the far edge of his desk. "Mello," Matt repeated more sternly, getting to his feet to accentuate that he was serious.

"_What?" _the other boy snapped, whipping around to glare at his friend.

"Mel, how long have you been reading that stuff?" Matt was quickly piecing things together, remembering that Mello had been nose-deep in files when he'd gone to bed the night before, and had barely moved two centimeters when he'd woken up—he had assumed that his friend had gone to bed at some point… but, making assumptions around Mello couldn't be considered the most exact of sciences. The blond's refusal to answer his question only confirmed his suspicions and he sighed. "Mello, you're never going to actually beat Near if you kill yourself in the process."

A preoccupied growl was his only response and he rolled his eyes irately. "Damnit, Mel, you're a genius. You're not going to find anything new—you got everything the first four times." He bared his own teeth mockingly in reply, stomping over to his closet to riffle through his shirts.

"Where the hell are you going?" Mello groused after a moment, the tips of his bangs twitching as he made to glance over his shoulder and quickly stopped himself.

"Have a date," Matt shrugged, yanking out a black _"GAME OVER" _shirt and clutching it between his knees as he ripped his sweater off.

Mello's jittering slowed, though never quite halted, and his eyes flashed emerald in a quick glance over his shoulder. "I thought you guys broke up?" he finally said, yanking his laptop forward thoughtlessly.

"Hmm?" Matt hummed absently, lazily overseeing the patting down of his static-tussled hair and cursory running of his tongue over his teeth in the mirror above the dresser. "Oh? Sarah? Yeah, we did. Serves her right, wanting me to give her _my _Gameboy for her birthday. Seriously. What the deuce? She doesn't even _like _videogames. Said it would "prove my sincerity." What-_the fuck_-ever, I say. Anyhoo. Abbie 'n' I're going on a double date with An and Justin. Apparently, Justin has Roger's explicit permission to go to town on his own, and that encompasses whoever he's with… lucky wanker. But—hey, you okay?" He blinked at the reflection of his roommate's tensed shoulders curiously for a moment, then winced. "Oh, right. Justin. Sorry, man. I forget, sometimes…."

Mello rolled his eyes. "Fuck, Matt, not everything is about Justin, okay?" he growled irritably, "Damnit, I'm _not_ obsessed with him."

In fact, he didn't really feel much of anything for Justin one way or the other anymore. He was just a friendly face sitting across from him as L lectured. Eyes of molten amber had faded to normal run-of-the-mill brown, glossy midnight curls that had once beckoned Mello to succumb and run his fingers through them had somehow been replaced by plain—albeit very shiny—black hair, the million-watt smile had dulled, burnt-sienna skin that used to be so exotic now held no fascination. Yes, the crush was officially over, and Mello couldn't deny that he was more than a little relieved—he had too many other things to deal with. Matt didn't have to know, though—the younger boy had somewhat easily accepted Mello's orientation… but that had been when Mello had eyes only for Justin; now that anyone was fair game, would that change? He really didn't want to find out.

"Yeesh, okay! Tou_chy. _Sorry." Matt pouted at the blond imploringly.

Mello made no attempt to reply, so Matt silently rooted out his jacket, casting one last glance at his friend as he headed for the door. "Mel, are you sure you're okay? You look dead tired, man."

"Look, I'm _fine," _Mello sighed exasperatedly, throwing down his pencil in irritation, closing his eyes, and rubbing at the bridge of his nose, "I just… haven't been sleeping very well lately, that's all."

The redhead across the room made a sympathetic sound, shifting back toward the blond at the desk instinctively. "Have you been having nightmares, again?" he asked worriedly, "Still about your parents? D'you need me to stay? You know I'll cancel if you want me to. I… could sing you a lullaby! …Uh. Or… hum the Imperial March for you or something."

Mello didn't even have the energy to scoff at his friend, settling instead for a long-suffering glance over his shoulder. "Matt, just _go_. Bring me back a chocolate-covered something," he muttered, turning back to his laptop evasively, hoping that Matt would drop the subject—that he wouldn't realize just how close to the truth he was. The image of Near smirking at him over a pajama-clad shoulder, leading a compliant L and Matt away drifted through his mind. He wasn't sure when his nightmares had morphed from his parents' horrific murders to being left alone—watching, helpless, as his mentor and best friend turned their backs… but it scared him. And he couldn't tell Matt. The redhead couldn't see this new weakness. He'd already seen too much.

Matt grinned, oblivious to the inverted glaze in Mello's stare. "Right-o, boss. Contraband sugar, it is. Not making any promises with L around, though. If he catches me with it, I'm dropping the chocolate and high-tailing it, 'kay?" He gave Mello the thumbs up, which was ignored, before backing out the door and around the corner.

Mello sat silent for a moment, elbow propped up on the back of his chair as he stared helplessly at the spot where Matt's scarlet head had disappeared, before turning back to his research with a sigh.

* * *

"Matt. Turn the damn volume down! Too much conflicting noise!"

The redhead sighed, throwing his friend an ignored baleful look as he obligingly muted his Gameboy. Mello grunted in what may have been interpreted as thanks before turning back to his analysis, content now that the rambling news report was his only distraction.

The Common Room was relatively empty as most of the orphans were still at dinner; the sounds from the television were all that broke the silence, and Justin and Anya were the only ones paying attention anyway. Mello sat in the back of the room, pouring over the files from that old case of L's in L.A.; Matt, as expected, was slouched against the corner of the couch, absorbed in his game, with Abbie cuddled up to his side, reading; Anya and Justin had taken over the rest of the cushions as they watched the news, wrapped up in a comforter to stave off the winter chill.

The blond glared at the paper-clipped files spread across the table in front of him, tapping the side of his laptop irately, somehow unable to concentrate even with the diminished distractions. He growled softly, shoving his chair back in frustration and glancing at the TV over Matt's bowed head. The news report was nothing more than a garbled jumble of sound and images in his irritated state, and distracted emerald eyes slid slowly to focus on the auburn head resting contentedly against Matt's shoulder. He scowled.

He hadn't really thought about it when Matt had first casually mentioned Abbie's name and "date" in the same sentence… after all, Matt's relationships were notoriously short-lived. The Wammy's girls were quickly realizing that the redhead, while a very delightful thing to look at and fawn over, wasn't really all that good of _boyfriend _material, what with nearly everything else being more important to him than his flavor of the week—his games, whatever he was off doing whenever L was around, that annoying, high-maintenance Mello kid…. The few who still had the conviction to try rarely lasted more than two weeks anymore.

But he and Abbie had been together for several months now. Matt had shrugged it off, saying that she was nice and they were friends and she actually liked video games and comics and stuff and it wasn't really all that serious, so why not? He'd waved him off when Mello had pointed out that Abbie had had a crush on him for at least a collective three out of the past four years. So what?

Mello frowned. He _really _didn't like it. Everything about the girl was starting to grate on his nerves—from the slightly too-wide, maniacal smile to the far too… _brown _hair. She'd even had the gall to usurp Mello's rightful seat at Matt's side during meals. She was _always there. _Always. Damnit, _he _was supposed to be the most important person in Matt's li—

"…_The bodies of Winston Reed, Alexander Jameston, and Rodney Phillips were found in their cells in Wincester prison this morning—" _Mello blinked distractedly at the names, glancing at the television. On the couch, Matt had jerked up, leaving Abbie to topple, unsupported, to the cushions with an indignant squeak. "Matt!" she hissed, "What the—" He slapped a hand over her mouth, not even bothering to shush her as he focused on the news report. "_The coroner has cited a heart attack as the cause of death for all three of the inmates. Reed, Jameston, and Phillips had just recently been found guilty of three counts of vehicular manslaughter, as well as the battery and assault charges brought on in December of last year. The memorial will be closed to immediate family only and will be held next Tuesday. …Authorities have requested that we address the suggestion that the recent rise in heart attack mortalities is some form of "divine judgment." They ask that—"_

"Holy _shit," _Matt whispered, turning wide cerulean eyes to stare at Mello over the back of the couch, "They're _dead?"_

The blond returned the stare blankly, blinking under the scrutiny from Anya and Justin from the opposite end of the couch as well. _Dead…? Heart attacks? What…? _He hadn't even heard about the most recent charges, nor the stint in prison….

"How could three young, healthy boys all die of heart attacks?" Abbie asked quietly, "Simultaneously?" Matt put a gentle hand on her forearm, silently thanking her for taking the attention off of Mello, though it was doubtful she realized she was doing it.

"It's been going on for a couple days, now," Justin answered quietly, "the number of heart attacks worldwide has drastically increased."

"By "drastically" he means an increase of nearly 70 percent," Anya cut in, "there have been more heart attack-induced deaths in the last four days than in the last year."

"What's causing it?" Mello asked, glancing from Matt to the two across from him.

"People have been saying that it's God's divine judgment," Anya replied, shivering slightly and shimmying closer to Justin's side, "Everyone who's died has been a criminal."

Mello's brows furrowed. Glancing from face to face once more, he lunged from his chair and quickly gathered up the research scattered across the tabletop. "I've gotta go," he said hastily, snapping his laptop shut and glancing pointedly at Matt as he left it on the table.

The redhead nodded in confirmation. "I'll take it back to the room, Mel."

And then he was out the door.

* * *

Mello nibbled his lip, shifting his folder of L's paperwork from hand to hand for a moment before finally reaching out and tentatively knocking.

"Come in," L called absently, and Mello quietly pushed the door back on its hinges. The detective's private room was dark, the floor lamp in the far corner hadn't been turned on, but that was hardly unusual—Mello was nearly 96 percent certain that it still had its original bulb. The only source of light was the laptop open on the desk, where L sat hunched at the edge of his chair, munching thoughtfully on a handful of cherries.

Silently, the blond crept up behind his mentor, setting the folder unobtrusively on the edge of the desk as he came to a halt at L's side, eyes automatically scanning the screen in front of the detective.

_**Name:**__ PHILLIPS, RODNEY. __**Age: **__20 __**Sex: **__Male __**Date of Death: **__12/01/2003 __**Time of Death: **__12:16 P.M. __**Date of Autopsy: **__12/02/2003—_

The autopsy report was accompanied by a smaller window in the top right corner of the screen displaying a scanned newspaper article written in Japanese. At the moment, L seemed more preoccupied with the news clipping, muttering the content under his breath as wide beetle-black eyes darted down the columns of kanji before quickly maximizing a word document and typing something at lightning speed. Mello glanced down at the papers strewn about the desk, newspapers with headlines all centering around "Kira," a map of Japan—the different regions traced, outlined, and numbered—and some of the detective's own handwritten notes, though Mello could only make out a small percentage as they were mostly in kanji.

"You think the murderer is in Japan?"

L picked a cherry stem out of his mouth, dropping it into the waste bin next to the desk before scrolling further down on the autopsy. "Yes," he replied simply, snatching up one of the loose papers on his desk and comparing it to the article on the computer speculatively.

Mello blinked. "So, you _do _think this is actually a murder case? The news was saying—"

"Mello, you are far too intelligent to believe a situation such as this could be natural, let alone "God's judgment." Be rational." L didn't bother to look at him, which Mello was thankful for, as the detective wouldn't notice the light blush painting his cheeks.

"W-well… it's unnatural, of _course_, but… are you sure it's _human_? What if it's a worldwide epidemic, or—" L moved to turn and Mello caught himself, "no, that can't be. An epidemic affecting only criminals…" He shook his head disbelievingly. "No, of course not."

L nodded approvingly, carefully selecting two pages from the clutter in the right hand drawer of his desk before swiveling in his chair to present the papers to his protégé. "What is the connection, Mello?"

Curious emerald eyes squinted at the proffered papers in the light from the computer as L held them carefully between thumb and forefinger. Two pages of names in neat columns, all in different languages, in order by date beginning on the twenty-eighth of November… convicted criminals… a list of deaths… a list of worldwide television and newspa— "Every criminal that's been killed has been broadcast in the media... usually high-profile," he murmured wonderingly, "Except that first one. That one was only aired in a small area of Japan. And that's the only one listed on the twenty-eighth… after that, the deaths began to occur in other countries!"

"Exactly." L nodded at him, a tiny smile stretching his lips as he reached for a third sheet. "Then, look at this: this is a list from the FBI database—all similar crimes, but kept out of the media. And…?"

"They're all still alive," Mello answered immediately, his eyes drawn wonderingly to the blank column extending beneath the header _Date of Death_.

"So…?" L prompted, setting down his papers and his thumb jumping to his lips as he studied the blond.

"…Kira… needs to have visual confirmation!" Mello beamed excitedly, looking to L for approval.

L smiled softly, swiveling back to his desk. "That is the conclusion I came to as well," he said thoughtfully, "But in order to prove that theory—" He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"L," Mr. Wammy's kindly face appeared, silhouetted in the light from the hallway. "The plane tickets have been booked for tomorrow morning. INTERPOL has been scheduled to meet on the fourth at three o'clock p.m."

The detective nodded. "Thank you, Watari, that should work perfectly."

Mr. Wammy proceeded to report several other dates, times, and locations as Mello's gaze drifted curiously across the desk. He blinked down at the name _Lind L. Taylor_, midway down the FBI file, circled messily in pencil. He bit his lip uneasily, an uncomfortable feeling settling itself in his stomach. Visual confirmation...

L turned back to him when the door had once more clicked shut behind Watari, giving his protégé an appraising glance and blinking. "Mello, are you all right?"

The blond swallowed uncertainly. "I…" If L's speculations were proven correct, then this _Kira…_ whatever it was… could kill a person by glancing at their face. How did you fight that? How did you protect someone from that…? "L, this is—I mean—this is really dangerous… even for _you_. I know you never show the public your face, but that doesn't mean there aren't people who've seen you…." That dream viciously reasserted itself, and Mello saw the detective's hunched figure disappearing down a darkened path where he knew he couldn't follow. "And what if, in that one second between the plane and the car or… the car and your hotel—" He gasped, his eyes widening.

"Mello," L murmured soothingly, reaching out to place a cool, bony hand gently on a trembling shoulder. Golden hair whipped away from a pale face in a frenzy as large, frantic forest green eyes met his own. L blinked owlishly, meeting Mello's gaze with his own calm, ever-certain one, and he felt the sudden, foreign impulse to take this boy who had come to mean so much into his arms and relieve him of all his fears.

Mello's breathing hitched as L drew him forward, pulling him against a bony chest as a sharp chin perched itself on top of his head. He swallowed, uncertain—he had never seen L involve himself in physical human contact beyond the occasional brush of the shoulder or hair... and now, to be wrapped in a surprisingly warm and human embrace…. He reached out trembling hands, his fingers digging into the white material of the detective's shirt as he clung to him frantically.

"Mello, there are many things that could happen in that one instant you speak of. Just _living _is a constant risk. There has always been the possibility that I will not return from a case, why are you worrying now?"

The blond mouthed wordlessly as L pushed him back slowly to meet his gaze once again, unable to answer.

L took pity on him, sighing as he reached for the nearly-empty bowl of abandoned cherries. "Mello, I promise that I will do everything in my power to discover the truth of this matter. I promise you that Kira _will _be brought to justice. However, you know I cannot promise you that I will return, for there is always the chance that I will not. That is what you have been studying for, after all. But I will try. There are still many things I wish to teach you."

Mello bowed his head, swallowing to steady himself, his fingers bunching in the dark material of his pants. "We… we can still email you, right?" he finally asked anxiously, "You'll still tell us how the case is going… like you always do, right?"

The young detective's wide, merciless eyes softened ever-so-slightly. "Of course. Whenever I am able."

Mello nodded jerkily, fighting valiantly to stave off the feeling that the gap between him and L had just widened beyond his ability to cross… that the detective had started down that dark road that he could not call him back from. "Right…" He smiled shakily. "See you when you've caught Kira, then."

* * *

The room was mostly dark when Mello crept in, easing the door carefully shut behind him. He had spent quite a while hunched up next to the door of L's room after bidding him goodnight, unwilling to walk away from his mentor just yet. But it was L, he had chided himself… nothing could beat L.

It seemed that Matt had tried to wait up for him, but had drifted off at some point, propped against the wall in the middle of his bed, the pause menu of his new copy of _Kingdom Hearts _casting the redhead in a soft light. Mello felt the corners of his lips twitching into an affectionate smile as he picked his way over to the bed and carefully plucked the controller out of limp hands.

"_Nyuh_…" Matt grunted in his sleep, toppling over to sprawl across the mattress, "Why would you do that, Riku—" He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his comforter.

Mello rolled his eyes, having experienced Matt's videogame comas many times before—the time before last had been particularly memorable, with the gamer having fallen asleep in the middle of a cut scene from the end of _Ocarina of Time_, his third or fourth time through. Mello had laughed his ass off upon glancing at the screen and seeing the words _"Thank you, MELLO, the Hero of Time!"_ blinking beneath the pink, pixilated image of Princess Zelda. Matt had blushed, stuttering that Link reminded him of Mello, what with the blondness and strange affinity for pointy things and bizarre sound effects. And the guy love—'cause really, there's no way Link didn't have the hots for Sheik…. Mello smiled fondly at the memory, yanking the blanket unceremoniously out from under his friend before draping it over the sleeping boy far more gently. The redhead sighed contentedly, squirming his way up to the pillow.

He stood at his friend's bedside for a moment, watching as the younger boy floundered about looking for a comfortable position, finally flailing to a halt on his back with the comforter half thrown over the edge of the mattress. After a moment of silence, Mello leaned over, brushing crimson bangs aside before pressing a gentle kiss to Matt's forehead.

Straightening up, he strode across to his side of the room, hitting the power button on his way past the television.

L would leave tomorrow… he would catch Kira and be back in a couple months… and everything would still be the same when he got there, Mello would still hate Near… Justin and Anya would still be holding hands under the table in the mess hall, thinking no one noticed… Matt would have finished his game and be whining for the next one… and L would just smile patiently, and inform them that they would have a lesson the next day, after he'd had time to recover from the jetlag….

He rolled into bed, curling himself up into a ball in the corner of the mattress, clenching his eyes shut desperately.

Everything would be fine. It would.

**To be continued.**

_**L! **__Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! (Sobs) Why!? Why must it come to this part of the story so soon!? God knows I hate writing you, but I just love you so much!! Ahhhhhhhhhh! Oh, and on a side note: Mello kissed Matty on the forehead! Everybody now: D'awwwwwwwwwwww. …And no Near. He's being a bitch to write, so he's been banned from the story for a while. _

_Man, I hate this chapter. A lot. I was so looking forward to writing it… and now, it just seems so disjointed and nonsensical and OOC and… I can't even fathom why I'm posting it like this, but I am. So sorry! D:_

_Um, so… a valid point was made that my review replies really just take up space and now I'm all self-conscious about it. (le sigh) So what do you guys think? Should I keep doing the review-y stuff like I usually do, or actually be normal and just use the Reply function? I'm just used to doing it this way! Wahh! So, lemme know. But, of course, __**I FRIGGIN' LOVE YOU GUYS! You rock my world. And other things. So, please KEEP REVIEWING! I love them so, so much.**_

**Kaze Kimizu: **coughStaytunedforboy-lovin'nextchaptercough Ahem. Wow, have something in my throat. Thanks for the review! **aya: **lol, see my coughing fit in the previous reply. Woot. Glad I could distract you from school for a while! **camikaza: **I guess we'll see, eh? I think the next two chapters'll come faster, 'cause I'm gonna love them so much. 'cause I'm sick and twisted. Ehh. Thanks! **Carrot The LuvMachine: **Hee. Development ahoy! I hope this chapter was decent. I dunno, it feels really choppy and weird to me. GAH. **thinlimitation: **lol! Wow, thanks. I can only imagine the "WTF?" looks. Haha. Glad you liked the mafia thing… that was one of the first things about the story ever developed, so it's been pretty long lasting. Anyhoo, thanks for the review, as usual! **Melii Aile: **I do love me that angst. "Sad is happy for deep people." Quite. Glad you liked it! Thanks for the review! **Raea.In.Eden: **Gah! Sorry you waited all excitedly for this. I have let you down! T.T **Hair-Noodles: **Haha, I really kinda shaped the format of the chapter around that last line. 'cause I thought it up at random and was all "OMFG, I love that." So I'm glad you liked it, too! Thanks for taking time out of your busy school schedule to read my junk! Much love! **Trinny Dream**: Glad you liked it! Stay tuned for more gay! winkwink **Charlie O.**: …just wait a little longer, and I promise I'll deliver! Promise! Thanks for reading! **kira-kira: **Thanks! Man, Near kinda dropped off the planet. I tried to put him in this chapter, but he just refused. It was terrible. Ugh. **Damned Lolita: **She is the kitten from Hell. Broke my porcelain mask. Grr. And don't worry. So did I! lol. **AXENATION: **Man, I love your reviews! They make me laugh so much. I'm trying to limit my rambling in these replies… (pout) But I love the relationship you seem to have with your mum. It cracks me up. It really was emotion-vomit. Mel's getting quite good at it. Justin!loves FTW! Thanks for the review, as per usual! **Loverly Lawliet: **Yup. Hee. **The Chaos Apple: **lol! I hope you continue to not be disappointed… 'cause I'm really disappointed with this chapter… ugh. And huzzah for sexual-tension-induced-imbecil…ity? Huh. **twentyfiveraven: **Ha! I'm confusing so many mothers with this story! It's hilarious! I'm glad you liked it, and I love that you randomly quote stuff, too. I do it all the time. I know that perplexed look well… we're involved. Woot! **BitterxSweetxApathy: **Oh noes! I think your review got cut off! There was only an "I." But thanks so much for taking the time! I really appreciate it! **Therkin: **Chapter after next. And the next, of course, includes: "RAWR! I'm a vampire!" …oh, god, I love it so. **SlvrSoleAlchmst1: **Gah! See!? It's so ingrained! Grrrrr. **Near the Kazekage: **Thank you! I'm glad you like it! I hope this chapter wasn't off-putting, 'case it gave me a lot of trouble. Ugh. Thanks for the review! **Demon Hiei's Girl: **Gigglesnort lol, indeed. Exactly that. Hope this helped, sorry there was no hardcore tension, had to emo it up. Next chapter for sure. Cross my heart. In fact, it's already written. Bwahahaha! **Momijik:** …Near!Sim was impregnated by aliens. O.o I know, wot? But anyhoo, write it, and I'll deliver it to them! Heh. Get your sexual tension knife ready for the next chapter! **Wicked Lovelace: **Thanks for the review! Hope you continue to like it!

…_bwoff!_


	13. XIII

_**Oh hai, guyz. **__Eheh. Sooooo… about this chapter. I'm iffy on it, honestly. I don't know what happened to my writing, but the whole thing just seems really choppy, despite the fact that it's a pretty decent length. Gah. I dunno. Anyway, I'll let you decide for yourselves._

_**Disclaimer: **__Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye._

**.XIII.**

_1/01/04_

_I hope that all of you have learned from recent happenings. The twelve FBI agents, while the knowledge they provided can be argued as essential, were a terrible loss and it was my own lack of foresight that caused their deaths—a mistake I do not plan to make again, and I expect you to realize the value of human life and those who will be working under you in the future. Never forget or take that lightly. _

_You will not be receiving updates on such a regular basis from this point forward, as I will now be working in the physical presence of several detectives from the Japanese NPA. While I trust them, to a reasonable degree, I do not want even the slightest hint of the existence and importance of you or the House to be made known to them. I will write when I can._

_Happy Christmas and New Year, I hope you were all satisfied with your gifts._

_-Ryuzaki_

On the first day of the new year, L's—or rather, Ryuzaki's, as he had taken to signing after that business in L.A.—customary email appeared in each of his protégés' inboxes, accompanied by an attachment titled, simply, _Rankings._

The document was written in code, and Near—to Mello's great fury—was the first to successfully decipher it. The younger boy appeared at his and Matt's door early that afternoon with a hand written translation of the ranking list, which he deposited in a fuming Mello's hands before turning and heading silently down the hall in the direction of the common room.

The blond slammed the door violently, rousing Matt from the worlds of _Kingdom Hearts_, and stared sullenly down at the damning list that would forever govern his life.

_Near. _

Always at the top… always on the line right above his own name… always first. _Near. _Damnit. He crumpled the paper in his fist furiously.

It was the third name that raised eyebrows this year. Matt shrugged noncommittally when Mello inquired as to how, exactly, the redhead had miraculously shot up two places to claim the third rank.

"Guess all that studying you forced me into actually paid off," he replied simply, turning his back on Mello's wide-eyed stare and returning to his video game.

* * *

"How the hell are you getting all this stuff?" Mello asked, face contorted in a mixture of curiosity and exasperation as he thoughtlessly set two boxes and a gaming magazine on his roommate's bed.

Matt dropped his pencil and pounced, sending his desk chair toppling to the floor as he snatched up the larger box and ripped into it with a veritable squeal. "It came! It finally came!" he cried excitedly, ignoring the blond as he sat down next to him on the edge of the bed, watching as the younger boy sifted happily through the packing peanuts.

The redhead squirmed delightedly, reverently removing the Xbox from its packaging and tenderly divesting it of the last remnants of the styrofoam peanuts. Mello's mouth fell open at the sight of it, clambering closer in disbelief as Matt stroked the system lovingly.

"Holy—what the— Amazon? Seriously?" Mello threw the delivery receipt he'd been scrutinizing aside, digging out the plastic bag of games hidden in the bottom of the box and grimacing at them in disgust. "How the hell are you paying for all this? There's no way your allowance is covering it all."

"I got a credit card," Matt replied casually over his shoulder, already on the floor in front of the television, hooking the Xbox up.

"What!?" Mello roared, throwing the games at his friend's back in disbelief, "You gave away your personal information? You gave them your name and address!? What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"_Relax_, Mello," the redhead replied, shooting the older boy an irritated glance and rubbing at the small of his back where the corner of a game case had made impact, "All of the credit card information is under a fake name, and the billing address is different from the shipping address. How stupid do you think I am? Seriously, it's cool. So _chill_. Where did you think I was getting all my PlayStation games, anyway? And shouldn't you be more worried about the fact that I'm only fourteen?"

Mello blinked at him, shaking his head. "Like I give a shit how you break the law. What if some one tracked you down, though? You do realize that you technically don't exist, right?"

"Um, _yeah. _And may I kindly remind you of just which of us is the computer genius, here? I've got it under control, Mel. Stop wigging out on me."

Mello rolled his eyes, fiddling absently with the corner of Matt's comforter as he watched the redhead scoot back against the bed frame and snatch up a controller, meticulously customizing the setup of his console. "…What else have you been getting?"

"Stuff. Games, mostly. I preordered _Halo 2 _and a bunch of others coming out this year… oh! And I found a _sweet _vampire costume that I'm gonna order for Halloween." Mello could see the other boy's excited grin as well as if it were wrapping itself all the way around his head, and he smiled affectionately at the crimson hair.

"It's March, dipshit."

Matt rolled his eyes. _"Duh. _I'm not that stupid, Mel, we've been over this. I'm not gonna order it _now. _Yeesh. You're just jealous."

Mello scoffed, sprawling back across the gamer's bed and crossing his arms over his chest haughtily. "Jealous? No fucking way am I giving out any information that can be traced back to me. Also, Roger would string you up by your pinky nails if he knew about this. You're lucky I happened to be walking by as it was being delivered."

The younger boy cocked his head thoughtfully. "Mm. I had a feeling you might do a little bitching about that. So I took the liberty of getting some insurance."

Mello blinked, mildly offended. "What, you thought I would sell you out to Roger? Is my honor worth so little to you? Do you really have to stoop so low as to bribe me?" He paused, and Matt shifted slowly to grin knowingly at him over his shoulder. "…What'd you get me?"

The redhead laughed, tilting his chin at the forgotten box lying behind Mello on the bed. "I was gonna get you something chocolate-y… but I figured that was lame and predictable—though I _did _find this awesome website that sold, like, solid chocolate sculptures. I was reeeeeally tempted to get you a life-sized chocolate me." Matt snorted, turning back to the television screen. "Then whenever you pissed me off, I could be all like 'Eat me!'" He giggled uproariously at his own joke as, behind him, a subtle blush painted itself across pale cheeks at the thought, "But even I won't go that far for a joke. So, I got you those."

Mello coughed, clearing his throat as he carefully watched the back of Matt's head to make sure he didn't turn around before the blush died down. Licking his lips distractedly, he scrambled for the other box and ripped into it.

"Figured you should broaden your music collection," Matt commented without turning around, as the blond shuffled through the CDs that had been dumped into his lap.

He smiled lightly. David Bowie, Pink Floyd, Three Days Grace, Linkin Park, AC/DC, My Chemical Romance, Apcalyptica, Queen… "The fuck, Matt? t.A.T.u?"

Matt laughed, flicking his bangs out of his eyes distractedly. "Every CD collection needs a dirty little secret. Be happy I didn't get you a Billie Piper CD. Heh, remember her?" Mello rolled his eyes in unnoticed reply. "Hey, wanna play with me?" the redhead continued after a minute, pressing a final button with a flourish before turning imploring eyes on his friend. "I feel that my brand new _Soul Calibur II _and your brand new Apocalyptica would be a rather epic combo."

* * *

_6/6/04_

_I am afraid that from this point forward, I must insist that we cease these e-mails. The case has reached a potentially hazardous point. In order to continue the investigation I am placing a suspect under constant surveillance. This means that the suspect will be in my presence every waking moment, and I cannot run the risk of his discovering your existence. Any and all hints of you will be irreversibly erased from my personal laptop, as the suspect will have the opportunity to gain access to it in the course of this confinement. _

_This will be the last contact we have until this case has been successfully closed. Thus, I bid you all goodbye for now, and ask you to keep up with your studies so that we may resume immediately upon my return. _

_-Ryuzaki_

* * *

Mello cracked his neck with a contented sigh, hefting his book bag uncomfortably as he rounded the corner in the direction of the dorm rooms, on his way back from the library.

"_Yes!" _he blinked, pausing outside his and Matt's room before pushing the door silently back on its hinges as the redhead's excited shout rang out from behind it. "Yes, yes, yes, _yes!_"

Inside, the redhead pumped his fist triumphantly before quickly saving and turning to Abbie, who was sitting at the foot of Matt's bed, smiling affectionately at his exuberance. "Beat a boss?" she asked needlessly, glancing over at the pause screen. Outside the door, Mello had to stifle a scoff. _'No shit, Sherlock. Matt never gets that excited about anything _but _winning a boss fight.'_

"Only the toughest bitch ever written!" Matt grinned excitedly in reply, setting the controller aside and bouncing happily, hands on his ankles.

"Congratulations!" She smiled, setting her manga aside and crawling forward on hands and knees to press a soft kiss to Matt's lips.

Mello's bookbag hit the wooden floor of the hallway with a subdued thump, his breath hitching in shock. Back inside, cerulean eyes went wide in surprise for a second, shoulders stiffening imperceptibly, before Matt quickly forced himself to relax and reach up to wrap unsure hands around his girlfriend's forearms, returning the kiss.

Mello was gone before Matt's eyes drifted closed, sprinting down the hall with no real destination—as long as it was _away. _He bit his lip furiously, refusing to think, refusing to remember, refusing to question why the sight of his best friend kissing his girlfriend had seemed to rip its way violently through his sternum and mercilessly slash his heart to shreds.

Of course they kissed. She was his fucking _girlfriend_. They'd been dating for months—what had he thought? That Abbie would be content with just the title? That all they did was cuddle? Yeah right. Why was it such a big deal, anyway…? So what, if they kissed. But, fuck, the damned girl was everywhere! She was slowly infiltrating every aspect of Matt's life and… and damnit, he was _Mello's_ best friend! Who the hell did she think she was, kissing Mello's property!?

"_Do you really like her that much?"_

"_Well, she's nice, Mel. She likes video games, and she reads comics… she gets it. And besides, not having to worry about girls and dating is… nice. Dating Abbie's basically like hanging out with… you. But not you, 'cause you're you, and—well, anyway, I don't really need to do anything romantic or anything. It's awesome."_

"Fuck!" Mello gasped, stumbling to a halt and collasping against the wall beside the large front double doors. He furiously shoved golden hair out his face, breathing heavily as he fumbled sightlessly for the door handle, tripping desperately outside and throwing himself down the steps. _'If it isn't that important… if you just want a friend… why the fuck do you need _her_!? You're not s'posed to need anyone but me! Just me!'_

The sound of excited cheering drew him from his thoughts and he glanced up, watching as a boy, maybe a little older than himself, darted past, kicking a ball down a stretch of grass in the direction of a goal on the opposite side of the yard.

"Oh, hey, Mello," another teen panted as he slowed to a halt in front of the blond, wiping his sweaty forehead on the sleeve of his shirt as he watched the goal be scored.

Mello didn't reply, his gaze drawn instead to the pack of children making their way slowly back toward center field, ready for a new face off. "Can I play?" he asked suddenly, pegging the kid in front of him with piercing eyes.

The other boy blinked, uncertain. The blond prodigy had never made any attempt to join in their games, at least not in the last few years… ever since the whole alias thing and L started coming back more often. "Sorry, Mello," he ventured carefully, "we don't really have any more room on the team." Disconcerting emerald eyes zeroed in on him once more and he shifted uncomfortably, stepping back a few paces as Mello glared at him. "Well… uh, _actually_… I was just getting ready to head in. Y-you can have my spot. Forward. Y-yeah. Go for it."

Mello nodded in satisfaction at his retreating back, before jogging out to take up the empty position in front of the ball. He ignored the curious stares from his teammates and locked eyes with his opponent, who looked slightly uncomfortable. He sneered, feeling a rush of competitive adrenaline surging through his veins, pushing all thoughts of Matt and his clingy girlfriend and the lips and everything attached to them that should only belong to Mello out of his mind.

"Go!" he snarled, viciously kicking the ball straight through the other team's player and sprinting after it. It took less than a second for the children to come to their senses, and in an instant a howling, shrieking pack was hot on Mello's heals as he pelted down the field toward the goal.

* * *

Mello yawned widely, scribbling his name and a hasty 11/30/04 at the top of the page. He took a deep, satisfied breath, idly scratching the back of his head as he glanced out the window to see that night had long since fallen. He blinked, surprised at how long he'd been pouring over his essay. Getting up, he rubbed his eyes lazily, before quickly organizing the desk. An evening snack was definitely in order….

Turning, he made it halfway across the room before the door burst open in a swirl of red hair and black cloth. He stopped short as Matt glided to a halt and leered at him, decked out in silky black from top to bottom, heavily kohled saphire eyes glittering mischievously, his rather too-sharp looking canine teeth glinting.

"I'm a vampire!" he yelled gleefully, throwing out his arms dramatically and grinning, "I have come to _suck _your blood!" He made a hissing noise, clawing in Mello's direction. "C'mon, Mel! I only just finally got the costume…I've been waiting a month for this! Play along, yeah?" he whined when Mello made no move.

The blond stood dumbfounded for a moment, before a playful smirk danced across his lips in reply. He backed up a pace in mock fear, one hand scrabbling at the headboard of his bed. _"Back_, oh foul beast from _hell_!" he cried, yanking the crucifix over the knob it had been dangling from and brandishing it at Matt.

Matt recoiled theatrically, shrieking and shielding his eyes. Mello advanced, laughing outrageously, until he had the redhead pinned to the wall beside their door. "Ha_ha_!" he crowed triumphantly, stepping closer until their faces were inches apart, the cross nearly brushing the tip of Matt's nose.

Kholed eyes narrowed and pale lips drew back in a snarl, before Matt knocked Mello's hand aside, sending the cross skittering across the floor back in the general direction of the blond's bed. Mello had time to blink at his empty hand in shock, then up at Matt's face before he was tackled to the ground. A surprised grunt accompanied their fall, but there was hardly a pause before the struggle resumed.

Matt cackled maniacally, systematically pinning each of Mello's flailing limbs down before sitting on him victoriously and giving them both a moment to regain their breath. He leaned down, letting his slightly too-long bangs brush across Mello's flushed cheeks as the blond glared up at him defiantly.

"You smell good," he purred teasingly, "Can I bite you?"

Mello pursed his lips, glaring. "Of _course _not!" he growled, "Did _Van Helsing_ just _let _flipping _Dracula _bite him at the climax? _No_!" He bucked up, attempting to dislodge the other boy, just as Matt twisted, licking his lips and going playfully for Mello's throat. Matt grunted in surprise as a bony knee rammed into the back of his thigh, throwing him off balance and sending him lurching forward.

_"Ow_!" Mello shrieked as sharp canines nicked the skin of his cheek. Matt froze, eyes widening as he pulled back, watching the other boy rub at the cut. "I'm sorry, Mel!" he yelped frantically, fumbling to remove Mello's hand and check the damage for himself.

"Get off, you pissant!" Mello growled, shoving Matt away and getting to his feet, scooping up his rosary and yanking open the bottom drawer of the bureau to retrieve the small First Aid Kit required of every room in the orphanage.

"Here, let _me _do it!" Matt squeaked, lunging forward.

Mello rolled his eyes at the theatrics, reluctantly giving way to Matt as the redhead dug frantically through the kit for a Band-Aid. He pouted, rubbing at his cheek. "How'd you get those things so sharp, anyway?" he muttered.

Matt grinned mischievously over his shoulder, a sparkle of pride in cerulean eyes. "_Told_ you, it was a special order," he said simply, "They were flippin' expensive too. That's why I was so pissed when they lost the package. 's here, now, though." He smiled contentedly, shaking his head as he turned back to the first aid kit.

Mello blinked, feeling a warm blush creep across his cheeks at that smile. With a short cough, he turned away, busying himself with returning the rosary to its rightful place at the head of his bed as Matt kicked the drawer closed behind him.

"Oi, c'mere," the redhead beckoned, gesturing to the edge of Mello's mattress.

With one last cursory feel of his cheek to make sure the blush had faded, Mello covered the few steps to the bed and plopped down, glaring up at his friend with a forced disdain before his attention was caught by the crackling of the Band-Aid wrapper.

Matt pressed his lips together, his brows knitting in concentration as he slowly smoothed the Band-Aid into place, careful not to let a single spot of scratched skin escape his attention. Mello watched him intently, his eyes widened and his brows furrowed comically in his attempt to see past his own nose.

"There!" Matt exclaimed with a smile, settling back on his knees as his thumb continued to worry at the bandage, "Good as new!"

The blond scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You'd better hope so," he growled dangerously, narrowing his eyes threateningly at him.

The other boy smiled gently. "Don't worry, Mel. I'll never be responsible for marring your _perfect _face." He scooted forward a bit, pressing closer to his friend, eyes sparkling mischievously. "And besides, I'm not sure it'd even be _possible _to make you ugly. You could burn your face off 'n' still be pretty."

Mello arched a brow at the younger boy, sniffing disdainfully. He opened his mouth haughtily, a scathing reply dancing on the tip of his tongue, before the gentle caress at his cheek stole his attention. Matt's hand was still there, thumb tracing unconsciously up and away from the Band-Aid, over the smooth skin of Mello's temple… warm palm sliding slowly, unknowingly to cup his jaw as the redhead grinned happily down at his friend.

Emerald eyes roamed the smooth angles of a face not quite finished with its transition into maturity, drinking in the light dusting of freckles, the small scar on one crimson eyebrow—distinguishable only in close proximity—drifting down to trace full—yet still rather boyish—lips as the last hints of Matt's friendly smile slipped away. "…Mel… are you okay…?" he asked worriedly.

Mello glanced up, freezing as his gaze met wide sapphire for a long moment. A dozen or more thoughts were clamoring in the blond's mind, demanding his attention, but everything went deathly silent as he pressed thoughtlessly forward, his lips automatically searching out those of the startled redhead before him.

Matt gasped and stiffened as Mello's trembling fingers buried themselves in unexpectedly soft crimson hair. Emerald eyes slid closed slowly, and he tilted his head, shifting closer when the younger boy didn't pull away. _How could Abbie dare lay claim to this…? Nothing had ever felt so right._

They stayed frozen like that for a long moment, lips barely touching, hardly more than a mingling of breaths.

And then, the world came crashing violently back down.

Matt wrenched away, shoving Mello back to crash against the wall on the opposite side of the bed. There was a flurry of bed sheets and the pounding of footsteps, and then the door slammed shut, leaving Mello crumpled in the corner of the bed, staring wide-eyed at the empty air where his best friend had been less than a minute before. He blinked in confused horror, feeling the blood turn to ice in his veins as he slowly pushed himself up.

'_Shit. What've I done…?'_

**To be continued.**

_Oh, god, please don't kill me, guys! I know, this is the worst chapter ever! Our last glimpse of L coupled with that ending… I know I deserve a hardcore beating…. Ugh._

_**On another note (heh): **__Holy crap, guys! 37 reviews on _one _chapter!? You guys're way too freaking good to me. I love you all so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you! And since there is apparently an overwhelming surge of approval for review replies at the end of the chapter, I will continue! …At least for now. Woot!_

**Kaze Kimizu: **lol, I misled you. Sorry. Not the guy love you were expecting, huh? But yay for no Near! … Man, I hate that guy. Glad you liked last chapter, at least! **aya: **Aw! Of course I'd still do the bottom response thing _at least _for the people without accounts! I love y'all too much! And yeah, I read Welcome to Wammy. I friggin' loved it and it made me emo in a corner for a while 'cause this story'll never get that good! Haha. Anyhoo. Thank you for your continued patronage, my friend. Hope the tension didn't kill you. Lawl. **camikaza: **I hate having to make it somewhat realistic, since realistically Matt would probably be all "WTF, boy!kisses!? OMG, NO!" at first. (Sobs) Why, Matty, why!? …friggin' Near. (Grumbles) Well, thanks for the review, as always! **Anime is for the Kindhearted: **Who in their right mind wouldn't have a crush on Matt? It's _Matt! _Heh. Thanks for the review!! 8D **Poshi, formerly known as the Chaos Apple: **Aw, man, really? But I was so used to the other name. Geh. Wtfmorevaginas, indeed. Stupid Matt. I can just picture Mello's hair argument and Matt all "WTF, man?" lol! **thinlimitation: **Demyx Time FTW! I think I have a girl crush on Kelly and Jenn. Lol. They're the cutest couple ever. …Aside from MxM. Heh. …I kinda delivered the boy lovin', yeah? Ack. Silly Matty. Accept the gay, Matt! Haha! Thanks for the review, as always! **Twentyfiveraven: **Oh man, that song is really sad. D8 But I love it. I think I'll keep this way of responding at least through the end of the first part, then we'll see what happens for part 2. Thanks for the review! I want your plushies! Lol. **Carrot The LuvMachine: **Well, not playing, but… OMFGone!!11one! We just figured out last night that Light is Riku in the original Japanese KH. OMG! Riku is Light! Light is Riku! Riku is Tamaki! And KIBA! Oh dear GOD! My brain exploded. Haha! I'm glad my characters are realistic. I do get ever-so-paranoid about them…. **Melii Aile: **Haha! Okay! They stay for now!! Lol, glad you liked the kiss. I thought it was cute, too. Hee. **Shai-san: **EEK! Thank you! I'm so glad you like it that much! That's quite a compliment, as there are some kickass DN fics out there. Woot! Thank you so much for the review! **Demon Hiei's Girl: **Jealous enough for ya? XD Poor li'l Mello. Only the majority of the kiss was written… and I have a really short attention span. Lol! So, that's why it took so long! Sorry!! **Trinny Dream: **I hate having to write L's death… thing, as he won't be shown dying. Man, I love L. (Whimper) Glad you liked it!! **AXENATION: **Haha! Oh, man! I bet B would try it, too! That would be hilarious! The entire orphanage would be all "WTF? L finally lost the rest of his marbles…." Lol. And I would pay to see Mello and Abbie duel… or at least the person Abbie is based off of. That would be the best thing ever. There would be so much dirty fighting. Also, may I say that the last sentence-phrase-thing of your review is the best thing ever. I've quoted it several times, and I love it. Thanks as usual for the review! Heart. **kira-kira: **Glad you like it! Thanks for the review, I really appreciate it! 8) **BitterxSweetxApathy: **Fear not! This story is of the MelloxMatt!Boy!Lovin' variety. It's just taking a while to work up to it. So don't you worry. We'll get there soon. **Cheshire Misfit: **I do love me some Axel 'n' Roxas. They're so friggin' adorable. My friend and I about died last night when we found out that Axel and Aizawa are the same Japanese voice actor. When we watch DN tonight, we cracked up every time we saw Aizawa. It was brilliant. I'm glad you appreciate the slow pace, I know some people probably find it a little off-putting, so I'm glad to know some people like it! Sorry it took so long to update! **Wicked Lovelace: **Really? Wow! I'm glad you liked it that much! It seems like the less I like a chapter, the more you guys all like it. Lol. Maybe that says something about my grasp on my own story… heh. Resolutions next chapter!! **Damned Lolita: **He's freaking hard to write! GAH! But, anyway, thanks for the review!! Hope you were okay with this chapter! **Rae and Arakni:** Thanks for the review! I'm so glad to hear you like it, and hope you continue to! **Raea.In.Eden: **I second that no one is updating. It's the collective consciousness; all the DN writers are in blah mode. Lol. Glad you liked it!! Hope this chapter's okay! **XHelloXGoodbyeX: **Updated! Woot! Hope you liked it, thanks so much for the review! **Loverly Lawliet: **In my dreams, L is a doting Father figure, Light is sane, and Mello is in tune and honest with his emotions. Lol. But then the story wouldn't be so interesting! XD I can't believe the story's one of your favorites! I just can't fathom it with how many brilliant fics there are out there… but I'll take all the praise I can get! (Is praise-whore) Thanks you soooooo much! **Hair-Noodles: **Dude, I know. It was so ballsy to take out L. There were so many people who just stopped reading it after he died… man. Anyhoo… thanks for the review, as usual, I always love them!! **1337: **Lol, that might not be wise, since I'm so bad at updating! But on the bright side, things are changing and soon we will have the MxM we all know and love! **suberXxXduperXxXfun machine: **lol, I hope you didn't fail! Glad you like it, and thank for the review!** Near the Kazekage: **One time, my friend's ex-boyfriend named his file "Bob," so every time they addressed him, all the drama was murdered. "Thank you, BOB, the Hero of Time!" just doesn't have the same ring to it. Lawl. **Fool4Sasuke33: **Lack of Near is always a good thing! And as for the reviews… (my fingers are dead!) there're so many I might have to start using the function, but I really love doing it this way… (is conflicted) I hope the me-thinking-it's-bad equals reviewers-thinking-it's-good thing continues, 'cause this chapter irks me. Geh! Thanks for the review! Love it, as always! **ficktion: **lol, it's cool, since I think my MelloMatt stuff is my best to date. And… well, _I _certainly love guy love. XD Haha! Thank you so much for the review, I'm so glad you like the things I write… I'm so glad I'm not just writing for my own benefit. That would suck. Oi. **JigokuHana: **Update! I hope you continue to like it, thank you for the review! **GoggleGamer: **Yeah, the anime gives us such power of their characters… it's almost sick! Haha. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it! **blahweeblah626: **Proper eye colors FTW! YAY! Thanks for the review! **Living in a fantasy: **Haha, Matt's driven me to video games as well. Damn him. Heh. I'm so glad you like the story… I hope you continue to enjoy it! **Moonlight Fire: **You can, indeed! As I've mentioned before, I'm a review whore. Lol. I'm so glad you like it! Thank you for the review! **offender229: **I love writing fluff… too bad Therkin's dubbed me "The Murder of Fluff." Oi. Which you got a tiny, tiny taste of this chapter. Haha. Anyway, I'm glad you like it! Thanks for the review! **Demon's sinner: **I hope this chapter was up to your expectations… or at least, close. Thanks so much for taking the time to review, I appreciate it so much! **Riffti: **lol, thank you! I'm glad you like it! I hope your inner fangirl doesn't hate me now!

…_is dead._

_Bwoff!_


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